The Good, The Bad, The Annoying
by Addicted Archangel
Summary: An organized hike for field agents in the Alabama woods goes horribly wrong, and the members of the BAU face their own personal hell during the trek. Emotional/physical trauma. Whump, non-con, slash. No pairings. No fluff. Charachter death in late chapter
1. Prize in Sight

**A/N: This fic is the product of a challenge I have been issued by editor frog, LT and tearbos. They did NOT make this easy for me, but I will do my best and here is the first chapter of "The Good, The Bad, The Annoying"! And be warned: this story will be insanely evil and painful and.. and.. well.. -evil smirk- You read yourself.**

-o-o-o-

"In three – two – one – go!"

The single shot from the starter pistol echoed through the woods of remote Alabama as the 18 groups of federal agents picked up their equipment, setting off on their hike. They were to travel through the forest in pairs, having been teamed up randomly within their sections. 22 miles of medium-to-rough forest was to be covered within the next 36 hours, and the first team to arrive at the rendezvous point would get a week's vacation in Hawaii, with all expenses to be covered by the United States government.

The purpose of the hike was simple--to strengthen the sense of team spirit within the branches as well as build bonds between the agents, hence the random teaming. But naturally, the reward awaiting the winning team would act as a catalyst for most of the agents. A week's vacation was something not many of the field agents had been treated to in a very long time. So naturally, the competitive smell lay thick in the air.

All the teams had been equipped with the exact same tools and essentials. Enough water to last the pair during the hike, but not nearly enough food. Should they be hungry they could try to catch fish, pick berries or perhaps trap an animal. They had been provided with means to cook, a small pot and a pan, along with forks and one sharp knife.

The only thing they had been allowed to bring along themselves had been clothes of choice, all other objects and essentials had been included in the backpacks given by the organizers.

A map with the start and finish marked out, along with a compass was handed out to each team, and it was made very clear that this was the _one_ thing they absolutely weren't to lose. No cell phones were allowed, no battery operated devices such as MP3-players or GPS-devices were allowed during the hike.

And so they were off, venturing into the deep forest of Alabama.

-o-o-o-

"Did you know that Alabama was the home of the first open heart surgery?"

Reid had already begun his babbling and spewing of facts as early as in the first 15 minutes after the starter pistol sounded. The enthusiastic young agent struggled with his heavy backpack while stumbling along the rough path which seemingly had no edges or end.

Rossi seemed less than amused with the fact that he had been teamed up with resident genius. He saw the next 35 hours which lay ahead of him, filled with useless nonsense and babbling, and sighed resignedly.

"Really?"

"Yes!" Reid was obviously ecstatic that someone actually asked him a follow-up question in return to his rambling. "In 1902 Dr. Luther Leonidas Hill performed the first open heart surgery in the Western Hemisphere by suturing a stab wound in a young boy's heart. The surgery took place in Montgomery, Alabama!"

Rossi groaned silently. 22 miles in the forest with no one but his team's boy wonder by his side. He had a feeling this wasn't going to strengthen their bond, but rather increase his need to strangle the young agent. He didn't even finish his train of thought before he once again heard the young man's eager voice a few feet behind him.

"Alabama is the only state with all major natural resources needed to make iron and steel. It is also the largest supplier of cast-iron and steel pipe products, and..."

-o-o-o-

Emily was rather happy with her teammate. Seeing there hadn't been enough agents from the BAU participating in the exercise she had been teamed up with a field agent from another branch. JJ had been excluded from the wilderness experience due to her pregnancy, and therefore there had been a lack of agents to complete the teams.

Brad Rowlings of the Counterintelligence division had been assigned her partner for the duration of the hike, and Emily had no objections. Brad was a very good looking man, looking like he could carry her throughout the entire hike. But she was not about to play the damsel in distress in front of another agent.

Anyone knowing Emily knew she was as tough as nails, and preferred to sort things out herself rather than asking for help. But at the moment, the 48 pound backpack was doing a number on her back. She wondered what in the world could be putting all this weight on her, but then realized that it was the numerous bottles of water. No need to worry about dehydration.

She struggled along with the heavy backpack while chatting with the handsome, and strangely enough, also intelligent agent beside her. Brad was proving to be rather refreshing company while on the hike from hell.

-o-o-o-

Morgan and Hotch had taken to running the moment the starter pistol sounded through the cool forest air. They had their sights set straight on the week on Hawaii, and there was not an agent in the forest who would stand in their way.

They had already mapped out their course and stuffed the map back in Hotch's backpack while Morgan held the compass tightly as they jogged through the rugged wilderness.

"If we shift our course six degrees to the northwest we'll avoid a nasty climb, Hotch." Morgan pulled the map back out as they jogged along, holding the compass at its center.

"You afraid of a little climb, eh Morgan?" Hotch smirked as he jogged along side his subordinate. However, here in the forest there were no subordinates and superiors. Just field agents competing for a prize, and bonding together.

"It's not the climb that bothers me, it's the 55 foot drop we have to face after the climb that kinda bugging me. But if you're up for it..." Morgan shot a challenging look at Hotch, who actually smiled at his partner.

"Are you?"

Morgan laughed, and hurried his pace, outrunning his slightly older teammate. Hotch followed him, not quite catching up, but not falling behind either.

-o-o-o-

"...and also, the state has designated two official fish. The fighting tarpon, a silvery game fish that can reach 100 pounds, is the official saltwater fish and the largemouth bass is the official freshwater fish, and..."

-o-o-o-

After a two hour hike, Emily and Brad decided to take a pause. Winning the competition wasn't the most important thing on the agenda to them, but rather getting there in one piece. And besides, the hike turned out to be a very good thing.

Brad had caught Emily's eye from the moment they shook hands, and throughout the 3 miles they had covered in the last few hours, she began feeling the same vibes from him. It was the small things; the way he sometimes touched her elbow or arm when he talked to her. The way the left corner of his mouth was constantly a bit higher than the right.

And not to mention the way he had placed his right hand on the small of Emily's spine as they turned an unseen corner of a cliff.

-o-o-o-

Out of the three teams containing members of the BAU, team Hotchner and Morgan had covered the most ground. In 2 hours they had gotten through 4 miles of partially impenetrable forest and one majorly daring cliff climb.

They were now walking at a quick pace, determined to snag that prize. They chatted about different things, none of which connected to their line of work. Football and women were high on the list of subjects discussed, and they began feeling like ordinary men instead of agents out on a hike in the forest.

But, they reasoned, that was probably the whole idea of the hike all along.

"Hey Morgan, are you sure we're on the right route?" Hotch wiped some sweat off his brow as they trudged through the forest.

"Yeah, we diverted from the route by six degrees, and then shifted about a mile back to get back on. We're good." Morgan took a sip from a bottle of water, then hooked it back on his belt.

The two kept their pace as they ventured deeper into the merciless Alabama woods.

Unbeknownst to the two agents, the six degrees they had diverted from the original course had in fact not been reclaimed, as Morgan had accidentally held the compass upside down. They were now more than 18 degrees off course and headed straight into the deep impenetrable Alabama wilderness.


	2. Twist of Fate

**A/N: Here we go, chapter two! Sorry about the delay, I've been lazy. The story is just about to pick up a little pace. I think our agents have bitten off much more than they'll be able to chew on this hike. I feel evil..! Beta read by editor frog!!**

**-o-o-o-**

Hotch and Morgan sweated heavily as they tried to keep their pace high in the humid Alabama forest. They had decided that nothing was going to stand in their way of spending a week in Hawaii; certainly not a few miles of thick forest. Figuring it would be a piece of cake, they trudged along the rugged trail.

Nearly an hour had passed since they last checked the map, and Hotch stopped, taking a hold of a tree. "Something's wrong here, Morgan."

"What do you mean?"

"The sun should be a lot further to the right if we were going straight north-by-northeast."

This was the first time Morgan realized that something might be off. He had been so engaged in the conversation he and Hotch had been having, that he hadn't noticed the movements of the sun. Reaching into Hotch's backpack, he pulled out the map.

"Say we're moving at approximately 2 mph, and we've been going straight north-by-northeast..." "We should be about here." He pointed to a spot on the map.

Hotch looked at the map. "We should find a landmark."

"There was a river about half a mile back."

"There's no river on the map where we're supposed to be. There's one over here." Hotch pointed at the map, to a location about 2 miles southwest of the place where they should be.

"No, no, no, that can't be it. I checked the compass." Morgan shook his head. There was no way he could have misread the compass. He was used to hiking, and handling a compass wasn't the hardest thing in the world.

"Well, it doesn't look any better. According to the map, if we are here, there should be a cliff about 600 yards that...way." As he pointed, they both spotted the jagged cliff side protruding from the lush forest.

"Goddamnit!" Morgan slammed his fist into a tree, which wobbled and shed some leaves over the two agents. "I can't believe it!"

"It's okay, Morgan. We know where we are now, all we have to do is get back on track, and we'll be fine."

"How the hell could I misread the compass?!" Morgan was furious, seeing the week in Hawaii sailing further and further away in his mind.

"Calm down. Look. If we cut through this passage here and climb that cliff..." Hotch indicated on the map. "We can easily get back on track, and still have a chance. We might even get ahead of the others. Look, the course turns up here..." Indicating. "...and goes east. If we get to that point within the next, oh let's say 10 hours, we might have a shot."

Morgan muttered, still in awe over his own stupidity.

"We'll have to keep the tempo up and sleep as little as possible, but we can make it. If we reach this river here..." Indicating a river bank some miles ahead. "...we can set camp there and catch some fish for dinner. We need to eat to keep our strength up. Are you with me, Derek?"

Morgan looked up. It was the first time his superior had called him by his first name outside work. This was an obvious sign that he was very serious about making it through this hike, and winning the prize. Morgan smirked.

"What are we standing around for? We have ground to cover!"

And with that, the two agents set their sights on a rough passage of forest leading up to the cliff they needed to climb in order to get to their planned camp site for the night. They had close to 10 hours to get there. They would make it.

-o-o-o-

"Ow!"

Rossi groaned, this time louder than the other 26 times in the last 4 hours. He didn't have to turn around to know what had just happened behind him. The violent rustling of leaves, the thump and the whining cry of pain was clue enough. The young agent trudging along behind him had just fallen on his behind – again.

"Rossi, wait up. I have to...get..."

Rossi pretended not to hear. He needed a few seconds in silence, away from resident genius and his perpetual clumsiness and random fact-dropping. He hurried his pace slightly, just enough to make it out into a clearing. Stopping, he took a deep breath and enjoyed the momentary silence. This was his territory. He was practically born in the forest, and he knew exactly what to do to survive in it.

But his peace didn't last for long, as he heard the wobbly steps of young Dr. Reid stumbling up to him from behind.

"I fell again."

"I heard."

They continued through the clearing on route to a small creek about 12 miles ahead, where they had decided to make camp for the night. This was the first thing Rossi had actually been excited about. He might not have had his rifle and hunting dog with him, but he sure could catch fish and maybe trap some small animal for dinner.

Rossi had, during the last few hours, developed a method of blocking out everything that Reid said and merely listened to the sounds of the forest. Reid's ramblings had been reduced to a slight disturbance in the background.

Rossi mused as they walked along the rough path.

_Maybe I should teach the kid how to fish? Can't imagine he's ever been in the nature before. Not with that white computer-tanned skin he has. He needs to be taught how to survive in the wild. Sooner or later he might find himself forced to. __Maybe I could make him skin a rabbit? No, that would be pushing it..._

-o-o-o-

"The last girl I dated wasn't even half as attractive as you, Emily." Brad had a sly half-smile on his lips as he walked along side his hiking partner. The last half hour had been spent complimenting the angelic woman beside him.

Emily was getting completely fed up with Brad's sucking up. It was fun in the beginning, but now... There was something unsettling about Brad's constant smiling and endless flattery. It made her feel very unnerved.

"Look, Brad." She finally mustered up enough energy to tell him off. "It's nice of you to say these things and all, but we're on a hike. I think we should concentrate on getting to the rendezvous-point."

"Of course. I was simply..."

"Yeah, I know, Brad." She shot a slightly annoyed look at her partner, but swiftly turned into an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, but...I don't think we're after the same thing here."

Brad looked confused. "But, I thought..."

"I know what you thought, Brad, and I'm sorry I lead you on. I didn't mean it that way. We can talk over a cup of coffee when we get there. Right now we have to concentrate on the hike. Don't you think so?" She looked at Brad and gave him a small smile.

Brad looked less than satisfied, but smiled back. His eyes however didn't follow his lips. "Yeah. We'll hike now and talk later. And I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Emily. It wasn't my intention."

"I know it wasn't. Let's leave it, okay?" She placed her hand on his arm and shook it slightly. Letting go, she continued down the path.

Brad stood for a few moments before following the brunette bombshell on the rugged path. There was a darkness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, and had Emily seen this darkness, she might have thought twice about continuing the hike.

If there was one thing Brad hated, it was being rejected. Especially being rejected by a woman that wasn't even close to his standards. She was below him. Not nearly hot enough for him to be seen with.

And yet, she had the stomach to refuse him.

Gritting his teeth, Brad gripped the backpack, hoisting it higher up on his back. Trudging along, a small smirk graced his lips.

_You know what, Emily? I always get what I want. And one way or another – I'll have you._

-o-o-o-

"We're making great time, Hotch!" Morgan grabbed a tree for support after the run he and his superior had just finished. Panting, the two men tried to catch their breaths as they gulped down half a bottle of water each.

They had decided to speed things up a bit, and get to the camp site in 8 hours instead of 10. That way they could sleep a bit longer, or get a head start at sunrise.

"Yes..." Hotch felt a metallic taste in his mouth. "Great time." He had to lean against a tree and close his eyes not to pass out.

Morgan laughed through his gasps for air. "You don't look so good, Hotch! You sure you can keep up the pace?"

Shooting an accusing look at Morgan, Hotch gave him a grin. "Do I look 50 to you?"

Morgan shrugged and gave him a toothy smile back. "45?"

With that the two agents laughed and continued on their way through the rough Alabama woods.

Trudging though the rocks and foliage, Morgan and Hotch chatted away about the ups and downs of life, and everything in between. An hour went by, then two. The foliage got a bit less thick and the two could move more unhindered.

The pain came suddenly and mercilessly. One step and everything was fine, the next Morgan thought someone had just shot off his foot.

He let out a howl of pain as the iron jaws closed around his shin, digging deep into his flesh and bone, ripping the skin to shreds. Falling to the ground, Morgan held his leg, still howling from the searing pain shooting into his calf.

Hotch quickly disconnected his backpack, throwing it on the ground behind him as he dove down beside his partner.

"Morgan! Lay still!"

He tried to keep Morgan from moving with one hand as he brushed away the stack of leaves covering the malicious trap.

It was a bear trap, its sharp teeth deeply embedded in the younger agent's calf and shin. The bone was more than likely broken, as Hotch could see the white pieces of severed skeleton protruding from the torn skin around a few of the teeth.

Morgan grunted and gritted his teeth in an attempt to stay calm as Hotch reached for a stick to force the trap open.

Looking at the trap, Hotch threw the stick away. It was never going to work.

"Stay still, Morgan. I'm gonna press it open, okay? When I do, you have to pull your leg out yourself, I can't help you. Do you understand me?"

Morgan nodded, still gritting his teeth.

Hotch leaned on the two sides of the trap, putting all his weight on the metal arms holding the jaws together. Slowly, they pulled apart.

Morgan eased his leg out of the trap just in time before Hotch lost his grip and the jaws slammed closed once again with awesome force. A high metallic cling from the trap echoed through the woods as Morgan collapsed on his back in the foliage.

"Jesus! Goddamnit!" He held his leg tightly, blood oozing from the deep gashes on both sides of his calf.

"Stay still, I'll try and stop the blood flow." Hotch rummaged through the backpack in search for the first aid kit. Finding it, he took out the gauze and some antiseptics.

After tying off the leg at the knee, Hotch doused the wounds in antiseptics and then proceeded to put a tourniquet around the gashes. The blood flow had decreased and Hotch was able to put a splint along the leg.

Morgan tried not to wince and whimper as his superior nursed his leg, but it was pretty much unavoidable. Part of his leg had been crushed and mauled by a hidden trap. The way he saw it, he had every right to whine.

"How are you holding up?" Hotch, looked at his partner who had managed to sit up against a tree.

"I'm good... It hurts like crazy." Every slight movement sent bolts of pain straight up Morgan's leg and into his abdomen.

"Can you move?"

Morgan tried to lean on his other side, but the pain was overwhelming. "No... I don't think so."

"On the bright side, where there's a trap, there's a hunter. Whoever placed this trap here will probably return soon to check it. Are you sure you can't move?"

"I'll try. Give me a hand."

Supporting his weight on Hotch, Morgan managed to stand on his good foot, cursing and muttering profanities through his clenched teeth all the way up.

Suddenly, the two men heard a frighteningly familiar sound behind them. It was the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Hotch turned quickly, holding on to his wobbly friend.

The struggling agents were met by a wide, partially toothless smile and the barrel of a Model 70 Winchester pointed right at them.

"Well, well! Looks like I's gots meself a couple of trespassers!"

-o-o-o-

**A/N Again: Well.. want more or should I drop it? Choose, my pretties.. -smirk-**


	3. Learning From Experience

**A/N: Thanks to editor frog for finding the energy to beta! Now, let's see how our agents are doing in the forest.. -rubs hands-**

The two agents were pushed through the door of the run down cabin, Morgan leaning heavily on Hotch for support. The man behind them held the Winchester tightly, nudging them every now and then as a signal to walk faster. Not that it was possible, seeing Morgan was hardly capable to walk at all.

They had been herded through the woods for the last hour and a half, and despite that fact that the walk hadn't been long, it had been very strenous for the agents. They had been forced to leave Morgan's backpack behind for the sake of him being able to move at all. Hotch had been told to bring his.

The agents hadn't seen any possibility to escape, one of them being incapacitated. The man holding them at gunpoint looked strong enough to pound Hotch clean into the ground, and the Winchester in his hands didn't improve their chances of a successful escape.

Hotch had tried talking to him on a number of occasions, but the only answer he got was either a prod with the muzzle or a slap over the head. There was simply no communicating with this man.

Upon their arrival at the cabin, the man prodded them to go further in. Hotch supported Morgan, who grunted with every step. Feeling the muzzle of the rifle being shoved in the small of his spine, Hotch made a grimace, but obeyed. He moved forward with Morgan hanging on to his arm and shoulders.

The were forced into a back room with a dirt encrusted bed and a small nightstand. A single window was the room's only source of light, and it was turning dark outside. Shadows were already beginning to form over the soiled piece of furniture and the wooden floor and walls.

A hard shove in the back sent Hotch forward, and caused him to lose balance. His knees hit the hard wooden floor with a dull thud and he moaned loudly.

As Hotch fell forward, he lost his grip on Morgan, who tumbled onto the floor and let out a yelp of pain. His leg felt like it was going to fall off at the knee, and right now he wished it would. Holding it tightly, he groaned bitterly at his own incapability to watch his step.

The man behind them smirked proudly, as if he had just brought home a very sought after prey. "Ain't you two a couple o' real nice ones? Just wait 'til ma brother comes home, he's gonna be real happy when he sees what got caught in the trap!"

Grabbing a length of rope from a wooden chair next to him, the man threw it at Hotch. "You, purdy one. Tie that one up nice and tight so he don't get any dumb ideas. I'm a gonna be checkin' your knots when you dunnit."

Hotch took the rope and reluctantly tied Morgans hands together behind his back, all the while listening to the pained grunts emerging from his friend's throat. He felt terrible doing this to Morgan as he was already in a great deal of agony, but with the barrel of a rifle poking him in the back of the head he didn't have much of a choice.

The man motioned him to move away from Morgan and as he did, the man checked the ropes tying the younger man down. "Nice work, partner. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Glowering at the man, Hotch slowly complied and felt his hands being tightly roped together at the small of his back. The tug on his arms that followed caught him off guard, and he was dragged backwards on the rugged floor.

The man let go of Hotch's arms when they reached the wall opposite Morgan and placed the rifle leaning against it. Grabbing another piece of rope from the same chair, he tied Hotch's hands firmly to the leg of a cast iron stove.

"Figure he ain't movin', but you might be. Better I keep you over here." Tightening the rope around the already swollen hands it was wrapped around, he gave Hotch another partially toothless grin.

"Now you two sit there 'til ma brother comes home. Then we'll have some fun." He picked up the rifle and stepped out of the room, still grinning.

Morgan and Hotch could hear his heavy steps move through the cabin and come to a stop somewhere they couldn't see. Hotch turned his head to his friend who was propped up on the floor against the wall, legs straight out in front of him.

"Morgan. You okay?" Hotch spoke in a much lowered voice to avoid upsetting the man in the other room.

"Yeah. Who the hell is this guy?" Morgan whispered.

"I don't know. But he doesn't seem to be very reasonable."

"You think? The man just dragged us here at gunpoint, and I don't even want to think about what 'fun' we're gonna have when his brother comes home!"

"We have to try and talk to them."

"Yeah, like that's gonna work. It doesn't sound like English is their first language."

Hotch sighed. The mediocre intelligence obviously shown by the man holding them captive would definetely make it difficult to reason with him. And something told him that it would be fruitless to even try. The man seemed to have made up his mind about whatever was going to happen tonight.

The situation seemed hopeless to him. They were in the middle of the deep Alabama woods, without a phone or any other means to contact the outer world. Morgan was injured, he was tightly roped to an old and very heavy stove. There was one disturbed man outside the door with a loaded rifle and possibly another one on the way.

Hotch closed his eyes.

_What are we going to do?_

-o-o-o-

Rossi trudged along in the thick Alabama forest. The sun was getting close to setting in the east, and they were only half a mile away from the place where they had decided to make camp.

The senior agent gratefully listened to the silence around him. All he could hear was the birds chirping in the trees and the branches breaking under their feet. His younger hiking partner walked a few feet behind him, happily munching on some blueberries he found about half a mile back. He had picked a bunch and put them in one of the pockets of his fanny pack.

_I didn't like the look of those berries,_ Rossi thought._ At least they're making him shut up, for the first time in 7 hours._

"Hey, Rossi", came a garbled voice from behind the senior agent, who winced unnoticably. "Did you know that blueberries contain significant quantities of both antibacterial and antiviral compounds, and have a reputation in northern Europe of fighting infections?"

Rossi rolled his eyes at the virtually useless piece of information that passed straight through his head. "Is that so..?"

"Uh-huh. They may also help protect against heart disease!" Reid kept munching on his berries.

"That's nice Reid. But those aren't blueberries."

"They're not? Oh, they're huckleberries! Did you know that blueberries and huckleberries although related, are not the same. One obvious difference is that the blueberry has many soft, tiny almost unnoticeable seeds, while the huckleberry has ten larger, hard seeds. Blueberries are also bluer, while huckleberries are blackish blue or reddish black. This red/black variety is also called southern cranberry." He paused his fact recitation to look at the berries in his hand. "But these are deep blue, not blackish blue or reddish black."

"Yeah. The berries you've been eating for the last half a mile are called 'false blueberries', of the Ericaceae family."

"Oh."

"If I were you I'd stop eating them."

"A-a-are they...?"

"Poisonous? No."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Rossi stopped and turned around, looking at his much younger hiking partner. "Reid, how many times have you been in the forest?"

Reid had dropped the berries on the ground and was now facing his senior colleague. "Well, uh, there was this one time in seventh grade when we went on a field trip to South Carolina and went to a rangers' station. But other than that..." He paused and looked at the crushed berries on the ground before him. "We didn't have a lot of forests in Las Vegas."

"You have no forest experience and you have no real knowledge on the woodland flora and fauna other than what you have read in books. Am I right?"

"I-I guess."

"Then do you really think it's smart to pick berries you're not sure what they are and stuffing them in your mouth, which by the way is completely blue right now along with your cheeks."

Reid's hand went to his mouth and he wiped some of the muck off his skin. "No..." he mumbled under his hand.

"No, it's not. They could very well have been poisonous." He sighed. "Reid, I practically lived in the forest most of my life. Out here, I'm the one who has the facts, facts you can't read in books; thing you have to experience to learn."

Reid knew Rossi was right. Sure, he had read books containing all the facts in the world, but when push comes to shove...he really had no idea what to do in a forest. He kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to show Rossi his shame.

The senior agent could see the remorse in the young man's entire personae, and gave a slight smirk. He had wanted to teach the kid something during the hike, but as it turned out – the kid taught himself. He wouldn't be eating any more berries before asking his older colleague again.

"Come on." Rossi placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, making him look up. "We only have half a mile left until we can make camp. Can you make it?" He smiled fatherly at the young agent, who gave him a strained smile back.

"Yeah."

"Good. Then let's go." Rossi clapped his shoulder, turned around and continued the trek.

After a few moments, Reid frowned. "Um, Rossi?"

"Yeah?"

"If the berries weren't poisonous, why did you tell me to stop eat them?"

Rossi stifled a laugh. "That's one of the things you're gonna have to experience to learn, kid."

The young agent kept his frown as they trudged along.

_Experience? Experience what? They tasted fine to me._

-o-o-o-

The hike which had started off so nicely had quickly turned into a much less enjoyable experience. Since Emily had explained to Brad that her intentions weren't the same as his, there hadn't been much conversation between them.

Emily felt that she had hurt the other agent by rejecting him, but also felt that it had been more than necessary. The last thing she needed was another man breathing down her neck for the wrong reasons. Better to set the record straight from the beginning, or in this case, before it had gotten out of hand.

They were about an hour away from their planned camp site, and they walked along a makeshift path through a less penetrable part of the forest. Low branches and stony ground made it quite difficult to hike this particular part of the trail.

Emily looked up into the sky, or rather what she could make out of it between the treetops. The sun was nearing the horizon, and they had to make it to the camp site soon to have time to find wood for a fire and maybe catch a fish or two, not to mention set up the tent and perhaps even wash up a bit in the river. She missed her shower. Sweat poured down her brow and small insects found her very attractive.

_If I don't win that damn week in Hawaii, I'm gonna kill someone for making us do this..._ she thought to herself, tugging at her backpack to lift it higher onto her back.

She turned her head slightly backwards. "Brad, if we're gonna make it to the camp site we're gonna have to speed it up."

"Whatever you say, Emily."

Brad followed Emily's lead, never letting his eyes leave her bare legs. The khaki shorts clung to her body like a second skin and he couldn't take his eyes off the long, smooth legs moving before him. They looked perfect. Tight, muscular, slightly tanned and glistening with perspiration.

_They would feel great around my waist..._

He smirked to himself, and in his imagination he was already in the tent with this very stubborn woman, making love to her. She would enjoy every second, he knew she would. She just didn't realize it yet.

As they picked up their pace and nearly jogged along the rugged path, he watched her as she occasionally took hold of a pine or a birch to keep her balance

He pictured her arms around his upper body as she pressed close to him. He could almost feel those soft hands running over his skin.

_No French manicure here. Those are working hands. Not afraid to get dirty. And she'll get very dirty..._

The toss of her hair as she ducked a low branch sent a slight scent Brad's way of the coconut shampoo she'd used only hours before leaving for the hike. The ponytail bounced as she nearly tripped over a large rock.

_Look at her. She wants it. She's teasing me. She wouldn't move like that if she didn't want me. She knows I'm watching her. She likes it. She wants it._

Brad grinned as he watched his female hiking partner struggle with the oversized backpack as she made her way through the foliage. She took a drink of water without stopping, and then hooked the bottle to her belt, wiping her mouth with her hand. Brad pictured her lips in his mind.

_Those beauties are gonna be working overtime..._

He smirked.

_Just you wait, Emily. Just you wait._


	4. Men of Prey

**A/N: Sorry about the delay, my muse ran off with someone and left me all alone for a while. I'm quite mad at her. But she returned, and here is the next chapter! Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

After finally having made it to the river bank, Rossi and Reid began setting up the tents and making camp. However, after falling over the tent strings and accidentally knocking over Rossi, Reid was relieved of his duties and demoted to gathering wood for the fire, on one condition: that he never walked off any further than that he could still see the river.

Amazingly enough, the young agent managed to gather up a bundle of dry twigs and sticks _without_ getting lost in the forest. Upon his arrival back to the camp site, he found the tents up and Rossi working on some sort of makeshift fishing rod.

He dropped the twigs and sticks in a pile on the ground, and walked over to the senior agent. "How's it going?"

"Fine. I thought I'd catch some fish for us, it'd make a nice dinner before we turn in." Rossi tied a thin string around a long stick, and fastened a bent nail in the other end. Tightening the knot, he triumphantly held up his creation. "There we go!"

They hadn't been provided with a fishing rod in their backpacks, but having found a nail by the starting line, Rossi planned ahead and pocketed it. He knew how to make a fishing rod out of scrap.

Reid felt his stomach churn at the thought of eating fish. "Um... I'm not, erm, too fond of fish..." The event in Georgia some time ago had left him with a strong aversion to the smell of fish being cooked, and the thought of eating it – well, that sent a wave of nausea through the young doctor.

Rossi looked at the young man, who had pulled up his arms to hug his torso. He looked very uncomfortable. "Why not?"

"Uhm... Bad experience."

"Well, Reid, that's pretty much all there is to eat. There are a few freeze dried things in my backpack, you can take those if you want, and I'll eat the fish."

"Thank you, Rossi."

"But you're missing out on something good, I'll tell you that. I make a mean grilled bass." Rossi smirked at his younger colleague.

"I'm sure you do, I just...I..." He trailed off.

Rossi could tell something was bothering the young man, but decided not to pry at the moment. Instead, he changed the subject. "You know how to make a fire?"

"Um..."

"I'll take that as a no." He chuckled. "Just let me catch a few fish, and I'll show you how it's done." Standing up, he walked over to the river bank and climbed out on a few rocks protruding from the water. Throwing the baited hook into the water, he sat down and watched the slow rapids tugging at his line.

Reid sat down on the rocks behind the older man, not really daring to go closer to the water. They sat there, listening to the water floating by and the birds in the trees. Amazingly enough, Reid was actually silent for a full 15 minutes before he started fidgeting where he sat.

"Um, Rossi?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we have any...um...you know...paper?"

"Paper?"

"I gotta...um..._go.._?"

"Oh, you gotta _go_?" Rossi smirked.

_Here come the berries, kid. Learn from your mistakes._

"Well, we didn't get any paper. Sorry, kid."

Reid's face took on a panicked look. "But, what am I...?" He twisted as he sat on the rock, clutching at his stomach.

"Go in the woods, grab a handful of leaves and knock yourself out. It's the nature way!" Rossi smiled at the young man, who was very much struggling with keeping himself decent.

Reid was about to object, but before he had a chance to open his mouth; he felt a sudden pressure which threatened to overtake him. With a sharp inhale, he bolted into the forest, holding his stomach.

Rossi wanted to laugh, but began feeling sorry for the poor kid. He knew the effect those berries had on the system, but hadn't told him. A sting of guilt hit him, but he shook it off. The kid had to learn, and sometimes you learn the hard way.

A sudden tug on his line took his attention off the matter, as he lifted his rod to reveal a beautiful bass on the hook.

_That's gonna taste great over the fire._

-o-o-o-

Making camp was easy. Emily got her tent up in less than ten minutes, complete with sleeping bag and everything. The weekends of camping as a teenager finally came in handy. She had spent enough time in the woods to know what she was doing. Getting out of the house as a teen was a number one priority to her, just to get away from her very bossy mother, and hiking with her friends was the perfect escape.

Emily had spent a lot of time in France with her grandfather as a child and young woman, and had always been close to nature. She enjoyed the woods, and it was a lovely escape from the constant phonecalls and long distance nagging from her mother as she was stationed in France.

Gathering wood for an eventual fire, she kept an eye on Brad, who also seemed to be comfortable in the forest.

Brad sat on the ground making a snare. He wasn't interested in fishing; there were too many bones to pick out of those slimy, disgusting creatures. He was determined to have some meat to grill tonight, and the snare would do the trick.

Walking off into the forest, he placed the snare close to a shrubbery and tightened it to be as efficient as possible. Covering it up, he left it and would return later to collect the catch.

As he returned to the camp site, he found Emily sitting in front of the tents, building a fire pit. He smirked as he watched her skilled hands quickly put together a perfect circle of rocks and then placing the sticks and twigs in it. It would be a nice fire.

"You seem to know what you're doing there, Emily." He walked closer and sat down a few feet away across the fire place.

"I've made a few campfires in my days. Spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid."

"I can tell." He smiled, looking at the brunette placing twigs and sticks to make a perfect setting for a fire. "I put out a trap so we can eat some real food tonight."

Emily looked up, a puzzled look on her face. "I thought we were gonna fish?"

"Nah, don't like fish. I want meat on my plate."

"Okay..." Emily returned to her twig-structure, and finished it. "We'll wait with lighting this. It's not that cold yet and we have to save the wood for later."

"Good thinking." Brad's mind was clouded with the thoughts of what was going to happen tonight. He wanted the sun to set so they could light the fire. He wanted the fire to go out so they could go to sleep. He wanted to sneak into Emily's tent when she had fallen asleep and see what she looked like naked.

The smirk on his lips stayed there for the better part of the night. The two talked casually, but never got any deeper than discussing hobbies and their work.

Emily sighed silently. How could she have found this man attractive? There was nothing in his appearance that was especially attractive, and once she had gotten to know him a bit better, his entire being rather repulsed her. He was full of stereotypical expressions and opinions, and from what she could tell, he didn't think women had a place in the FBI.

She wondered how she was going to make it through the rest of the hike with this moron on her six. But then again, she was a strong person – she could ignore him to some length, and the rest, well... She was just going to have to manage.

Suddenly a high shrill cut through the air. Emily jerked, but Brad looked very satisfied. "There's our lunch, doll." He rose and grabbed the knife from the backpack. Venturing into the forest, the man set out to fetch whatever pray had gotten caught in the trap.

Emily shuddered. The thought of a poor animal caught in a trap sent shivers down her spine. And the thought of eating it made her nauseous. Of course, she had no problem with eating meat, but it was a whole different ballgame when she had to watch the poor thing being skinned and chopped up.

Moments later, Brad returned. The prey caught in the trap was a rabbit, which he held by the hind legs. Blood dripped down the poor creatures head and the knife he carried was also covered in the red, sticky fluid.

Emily winced.

_Oh God. How am I supposed to eat that? We never hunted for rabbits when I hiked with my friends, we just caught fish..._

"Look at this one, Ems! A big fat rabbit! That's gonna be great eating tonight!" Brad was obviously proud of his catch as he held it up for Emily to see.

Emily had to look away. The blood-covered rabbit was a bit too much. "Yeah, it looks good", she managed to say without looking at the massacred animal.

Brad smirked. "Weak stomach?"

"No, no, it's just... No."

He chuckled. "I'll just skin it over here so you don't have to see it."

"Thanks."

Brad walked to the other side of the tents. Emily didn't see it, but she heard the sounds of the skin being torn from the rabbit's flesh.

_Jesus. I didn't think I'd be this soft. It's a damn rabbit! It's food! It's not like we killed it just for fun, I mean – we're gonna eat it. That has to count for something. Come on, finish already! That sound is sickening..._

-o-o-o-

Morgan felt as if his leg was going to snap at any moment. Trying to move it ever so slightly caused a bolt of white pain shoot up his leg into his abdomen, making him wince in agony. His hands ached from the tight rope binding him tight.

Hotch tried desperately to assess the situation. Had they been anywhere else, he could have handled it so much better, but with Morgan injured and being tied up like this in the middle of nowhere, the situation seemed hopeless.

"Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"If we had to, could you get up?"

"I don't think so. My leg is too badly hurt."

Hotch sighed.

"Okay."

"Hotch, man, what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know." He shook his head and tried once more to contort his hands to slip out of the ropes behind his back, but failed. He could feel the abrasive surface of the ropes dig into his wrists, probably drawing blood, but he had to keep trying.

"What's gonna happen when that guy's brother comes home?" Morgan's voice was strained and a bit nervous. He didn't really need to ask the question. Both men had a gnawing feeling that they already knew what was coming, but they didn't want to admit it.

"Hopefully we won't have to find out." Hotch pulled at the ropes in hope of freeing himself. If he could only get loose, maybe he could overpower the man in the other room. It was the only chance they had of escaping this cabin.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening echoed through the cabin. Hotch froze.

The brother had come home.

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Fish-bid shamelessly stolen from editor frog's fic "Stolen". She said it was okay tho :)**


	5. Painfully Surrendering

**A/N: I think we can safely say that almost everyone in the BAU who is currently in Alabama is in one heck of a bind. This chapter, however, takes it over the edge for one of the characters. Betaed by editor frog!**

**!! WARNING !! Non-con, slash and general evilness featured in this chapter! You have been warned!**

-o-o-o-

"Hey, bro! You ain't gonna believe what I found in the trap by the hill today!"

The all-too-happy voice heard from the other room made Hotch and Morgan look at each other in slight panic. One man they might have been able to handle, but two...? Now it was too late to try to escape.

"Watcha find, Cooter?" The other voice was darker than the first, but had the same redneck-accent.

"Coupl'a real nice ones! C'mon, they're in the sleeper!" Heavy steps approached the room where Hotch and Morgan were tied up.

The two agents' looks shifted as they saw the men entering the room. The one they'd already met was a big man, but his brother looked like he could drop a bear at the blink of an eye. A big red beard covered his face, but even still, the agents could see the very satisfied smile on his lips through the bast.

"Well, lookie here!" Placing his hands on his hips, the brother took a broad legged stance and eyed the incapacitated men on the floor. "You was right, Cooter, them sure is a nice coupl'a city folk!"

"Ain't they?" Cooter poked Hotch with his boot-clad foot. "This one's alright, but that one..." He pointed at Morgan. "He gots stuck in the trap."

The brother snorted. "I caught better looking hogs." He turned to Hotch and crouched down in front of him. "Now this one here... A real purdy one. Ya gots a name, partner?"

"I'm not your partner." Hotch clenched his teeth and tried to give the bear-esque man in front of him an angry glare.

The brother laughed at his response and took hold of Hotch's chin. His hands smelled of dirt and were covered in muck. "Not yet ya ain't, but it's a comin'! I'm Pervis. An' that's ma brother Cooter. But you can call me 'daddy'..." The partially toothless smile Pervis gave Hotch made the agent feel very uncomfortable, and he squirmed to get away from the man's grip.

"Don't touch him!" Morgan called from across the room. The look in his eyes told Hotch that had his partner been in better shape and not tied up, he would have pounded Pervis through the floorboards. Morgan tore at his bounds, but couldn't move an inch.

Cooter was over Morgan in a matter of seconds, placing a hard stomp on his already broken and bleeding leg. The impact of Cooter's boot on the severed flesh made Morgan scream out in agony as he twisted to get away from the man with the boots. He could feel bones grind together as the foot left his leg and he howled from the pain.

"No! Don't!" Hotch cried out as he saw Cooter's foot maul Morgan's leg. He tried to lash out, only to feel strong fingers close around his throat, cutting off his air supply and pressing his head up against the wall.

Pervis smirked at the agent under his hand, struggling for air. "You be good now, ya hear. Or that boy over there s'gonna be hurt'n. Ya gots it?"

Hotch felt his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, and a blanket of gray began to spread over his eyes. He nodded in response, and the hand blissfully released his throat. Coughing and gasping he tried to regain his breath.

Morgan had slumped over on the floor, gritting his teeth from the intense pain shooting into his abdomen. His leg had thankfully gone numb moments after the blow it received, and he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. The agent tried to keep from passing out from the insane agony ravishing his body. He succeeded, but not as well as he wanted to. The pain was too bad, and he vomited violently over the hard wood floor.

The brothers laughed at the struggling men.

"Boy, are we gonna have fun with these two!" Pervis rubbed his hands as he shot a smiling look at his brother. "Ya gots sumthin' cookin', bro? I'm so hungry, I'd eat the balls off a low flyin' duck!"

"I's gots some chili on the cooker, be done in a while."

The smile on Pervis' lips widened. "Well then... We's gots some time to kill b'for dinner!" He leaned in on Hotch, placing a dirty hand one his left thigh, squeezing it tightly. "Whatcha say, purdy man? Wanna give daddy a ride?"

Hotch could feel Pervis' rancid breath on his face, and reacted instinctively. Thrusting his head forward, he head butted the man crouching before him, causing him to fall over backwards. Landing a foot square in the man's groin, Hotch tried to tear away from the bonds holding him down.

"You stop right there, purdy man!"

Hotch looked up at Cooter, only to see him stand over Morgan, pressing the bottom of his boot down on the agent's neck, pushing his face into the vomit under him. Morgan groaned and tried to squirm away from the foot holding him down, but his leg prevented him from moving more than inches at the time. The pressure on his neck was horrendous, and he felt all blood supply being cut off by the rough boot.

"You move one inch an' yer friend here's gonna have his neck broken!"

Cooter put more weight on Morgan's neck, causing a small keening sound to emerge from the restricted agent.

"No! No don't!" Hotch fell silent and stopped moving. Cooter got off Morgan's neck and helped his brother to his feet. Holding his groin, Pervis wasn't very happy. One glance at Hotch, and the agent knew what was coming.

The butt of the rifle impacted with Hotch's temple with awesome force, sending the agent's head straight into the old stove. Slumping forward as far as he could, Hotch slipped into a state of near unconsciousness. He was aware that something was going on, but he couldn't move or speak. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was shadows and blurs, and all he could hear was a murmur around his ears.

He could feel the bonds being released and he could feel hands lifting him off the ground. Hotch tried to protest, but his arms wouldn't listen, and no sound came when he tried to speak. He felt himself being dumped on something fairly soft that smelled awful. Someone was pulling at his clothes.

_No... Stop..._

Hotch tried to yell out, but the words refused to leave his mouth. He felt his shirt being pulled over his head and his pants yanked off his legs. A hard push sent the agent over on his stomach.

Someone pulled at his arms, holding them firmly over his head. He could hear laughter, and someone was screaming in the distance. Hotch's head was more than dizzy; he could barely see and not move. His limbs were completely unresponsive. He had no idea what was going on.

And suddenly there was pain; blinding, tearing pain. It was the most horrific pain Hotch had ever felt in his entire life. Something was splitting him in half. He finally managed to scream, but the pain didn't stop, and the grip around his wrists only got tighter.

Through his screams, Hotch cried angry tears of pain and humiliation, pushing his face into the sodden mattress. He finally realized what was happening to him, and there was nothing he could to. He squirmed, jerked his arms and thrashed around in the bed the best he could but nothing seemed to stop the men from violating him.

He finally gave up and let it happen.

The screams in the distance had come nearer now, and Hotch could hear Morgan's desperate pleas for the men to stop. He begged them to leave Hotch alone; to take him instead, just leave Hotch alone. But there was no response, only mocking laughter and more pain.

When they were done with Hotch, they left him crying and bleeding on the bed, where he curled up on the mattress, trying to hide away from the world. And from Morgan. Knowing he saw this... It made Hotch sick.

-o-o-o-

Rossi had caught three nice fish which he brought over to the fireplace. As he began to clean them, Reid emerged from the forest looking rather exasperated. He strenuously sat down across from his older colleague, still holding his stomach.

"You could have told me."

"Yeah, I could have. But then you wouldn't have learned anything."

Reid frowned. He knew he would very well have learned had Rossi only told him. He couldn't understand why his senior colleague hadn't told him prior to him eating a whole bunch of the berries. How was he supposed to know they weren't blueberries, they were blue and the shrubs they grew on sure looked like blueberry bushes.

He watched as Rossi gutted the fish, and the sight of the entrails made his stomach churn. All of a sudden all the memories from Georgia came over him like a sharp blow, and he threw his hands over his face, trying to block the pictures from his eyes.

Rossi spotted the young man violently rubbing his eyes, seemingly panicking. "Reid, what's going on?"

Reid couldn't answer. The flashbacks were too vivid, to clear. They frightened him to the brink of screaming out loud. He saw the madness in Tobias' eyes as his personality shifted into his father. He felt the pain as Charles flailed his foot with the large stick. He remembered the overwhelming fear as he stared down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at his face.

The hand on his shoulder startled him, and he lashed out with a yelp, knocking Rossi to the ground. The next second, he realized what he had done, and shot up from his seat.

"Rossi, I'm sorry! I-I-I was...I..." He didn't know how he was going to explain this to his senior colleague, who was now rising and brushing off dust from his pants.

"What the hell are you doing, Reid?"

Reid slumped down on the ground, hugging his knees. At this point he basically knew he had to tell Rossi about what happened in Georgia. Having nearly punched his superior in the face pretty much demanded a good explanation.

"It's...it's a long story."

"Can I gut the fish while you tell it?"

Reid felt his stomach turn once again. "Please don't." He couldn't stop himself any longer, but spun around and painted the bush behind him with whatever little was left in his stomach since lunch.

Rossi was stunned. He had no idea what was going on. The young man in front of him was puking his guts out in a bush after nearly socking him in the face.

_The berries couldn't have caused this. They're just a natural laxative. What's going on?_

"Reid, are you okay?"

"Yeah..." The young man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat back up and faced his superior.

"What's up with you, kid?"

Reid fidgeted as he sat once again holding his knees. "Um... Sit down, Rossi. It'll be a while."

-o-o-o-

Brad had finally finished skinning the rabbit, and was now on his way with chopping it up into grillable pieces. Thankfully, he was still on the other side of the tent, so Emily didn't have to watch.

It amazed her. She could see maimed and mutilated corpses and rooms covered in blood on a daily basis, and face UnSubs who had less humanity than a common alligator, and still become queasy upon the sight of a skinned bunny rabbit.

Shaking it off, she watched the sky. It was shifting colors as the sun was about to set. Pink, purple and yellow streaks crossed the sky as the sun slowly disappeared behind a mountain. There was still enough light to keep her from lighting the fire. No use in wasting fine firewood before it was absolutely necessary.

The forest was silent, apart from the occasional bird calling. Emily enjoyed the forest and everything in it, having nearly grown up in it. She laid back on the jagged ground, looking up at the trees above her. The wind blew slowly and softly at the treetops making the leaves rustle. Closing her eyes, her mind drifted back to the good times she had in the woods, when she wasn't competing for a prize, or had a sanctimonious asshole on her six.

"All done!"

Brad interrupted her thoughts with a triumphant call. As Emily turned her head, she saw him coming around the tent with a big grin on his lips, and chunks of bloody meat in his hands.

"Give me something to put it in."

Emily winced, and rummaged around in the backpack next to her, pulling out a pan. "Here."

With a distinct 'splat', Brad dumped the meat in the pan in front of Emily.

"You wanna start the fire of make barbeque sticks for the meat?"

Emily sighed. "I'll make the fire. You get the sticks."

"Fine." Brad shuffled off into the forest to get the sticks, as Emily began to light the fire.

She was thankful there was matches in the backpack. Apparently, whoever packed this gear had been humane enough to assume that not all people knew how to make a fire from scratch. After a few tries, she got a nice fire going, and fetched some dry grass to feed the flames.

Brad returned to the camp site with some sticks, and as he sharpened them to use for the barbeque he and Emily chatted about useless things like the weather, sports and work. That was about as deep as they got in their conversation.

The man looked at Emily as she blew on the fire to keep it going.

_She's sitting there, blowing on the fire. By nighttime she'll be blowing something else... Me!_

Laughing on the inside, Brad simply let a smirk rest on his lips as he continued watching every move Emily made.

The way she re-did her ponytail. The way she rubbed her neck after carrying the heavy backpack. The way she stroked her arms to heat herself up a bit when darkness began falling over the campsite. The way she occasionally let her tongue dart out and wet her lips.

These were all signs, signs of want. Signs of need. Signs of desire. And Brad could tell. He saw her make all these moves, and knew she was calling him. She wanted him. And as Emily reached her arms over her head to stretch out, it sealed the deal harder than ever. The shirt tightened over her chest, accentuating the rounding of her breasts.

It made Brad grit his teeth in anticipation.

_Just a little bit longer, and you'll be mine. All mine..._

_-o-o-o-_

**A/N 2: Bum bum bum! I'd really like to know what you guys are thinking about the chapter and the story so far, so please R/R my darlings!!**


	6. Fighting Demons

**A/N: No big warnings on this one, babes! Just pleasant reading. Well.. pleasant wouldn't be the word I'd use, but.. what the heck! edited by the Gublerific editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

Reid had spent the last half hour telling Rossi about what happened in Georgia. He told him about the abuse, the pain, the fear and--of course--the fish. Tears pricked behind his eyes the entire time but the young man managed to keep them back. He didn't want Rossi to see him crying. Reid had a feeling the older agent already thought he was weak, and he didn't want to add to that thought.

However, Reid left out the part of becoming addicted to Dilaudid after his abduction. That was a tidbit of information he didn't feel Rossi needed to know about, seeing as no one else knew about it either.

When Reid finished his story, Rossi simply sat there gaping. He had no idea his young colleague had been through that kind of trauma, and it was hard to fathom how this gentle, fragile little man could have pulled through it with as much sanity as he had.

Placing a hand on the young agent's shoulder, he squeezed it lightly.

"Reid, I'm...I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I didn't know."

"How could you have? I didn't tell you."

"Well, you did now. And I'm very glad you did."

He gave Reid's shoulder another squeeze and stood up.

"Why don't you go wash up a bit while I finish up over here? I'll throw the fish away."

"No, don't!" Reid felt a wave of guilt come over him. He knew how much Rossi had looked forward to grilling the fish; it was the high point of the trek for him. The young man didn't feel he could take that away from him. "I-I'll be fine."

"Reid." Rossi crouched before his young colleague. "I cannot, in good conscience, cook and eat that fish knowing you feel the way you do. I'll toss it, and then I'll go find some real blueberries and stuff we can eat. Go wash up a bit in the river, you'll feel a lot better."

He rose with a slight smile and went to grab the fish.

"Rossi?" Reid turned around on his way to the river.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem kid. I guess I kind of owe you."

"For what?"

"Not telling you about the berries."

"Oh. Well...it's okay. I screwed up. I shouldn't have picked them without asking you first." The young man blushed as he admitted his mistake.

"No, I should have told you. That was thoughtless of me. I'm sorry, kid."

Reid gave his superior a tired smile. "That's okay. Learning from experience, right?"

"Yeah." Rossi smiled back and watched Reid walk away towards the river. He looked at the sky and frowned.

_I'm gonna have to hurry if I'm gonna find something else to eat. We're really losing the light._

He tossed the half gutted fish into a bush and set off into the forest to find some alternative source of food. It was too late to set a trap, and with fish being out of the question that left Rossi with only one option. With the clean pan in his hand, he knelt behind a couple of pines and began picking berries and mushrooms. Together with some nice roots he dug up from under a birch; it would make a good meal for the two agents camping in the woods.

-o-o-o-

Hotch lay on the soiled bed, curled up into a battered ball. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened to him. The pain lingered in his body and every move he made, no matter how small, made him wince. Not wanting to open his eyes, he screwed them shut to prevent the tears from pouring out.

He could hear someone calling him from far away, calling his name. He recognized the voice but couldn't place it.

_Who is that? Who's calling me?_

"Hotch! Oh, God – Hotch! Talk to me, man!"

Pulling his legs up further, the ferocious pain bolted through Hotch's body and made him yelp. He moved his arms up over his head, and he covered his ears, trying to block out the voice calling him.

_No more. Please, no more..._

The pulsating pain shooting through him forced him to bite his lip to keep from letting the angry tears out. His breathing was short and shallow, and every time he tried to take a deep breath, his body crumpled under the sharp, tearing feeling coming over him.

Hotch was completely lost in his own mind. He couldn't understand where this excruciating pain was coming from. Something in his mind had made him block the last half hour out. His body had gone into a state of total self-preservation, and blocked out everything but the pain. The searing, burning pain.

Morgan sat on the floor, having finally been able to pull himself up against the wall. He called out for Hotch but there was no response. All he could hear was the strained breathing and occasional yelp or whimper.

Voices could be heard from the other room along with cutlery banging against dishes. It appeared the brothers were eating, and Morgan didn't even want to know what. They laughed at something, and it made the agent furious.

There was nothing Morgan could do to help his superior. He tried, but he couldn't move off the floor. He pleaded with them to stop, to hurt him instead of Hotch, but there hadn't even been a glance or a moment of hesitation from the two men brutalizing his helpless colleague.

Morgan banged his head once against the wall behind him, blinking to get the god damn tears out of his eyes. He refused to cry, despite the horrific scene he had just been witness to. It hurt so bad having been forced to watch Hotch being violated, hearing his desperate screams and now not even being able to make contact with him.

The feeling of horrendous guilt overcame the agent sitting tied up on the floor.

_There was nothing I could do. Jesus, Hotch. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do__…_

-o-o-o-

The grilled pieces of freshly skinned rabbit actually tasted better than Emily thought. At first she couldn't stand even looking at the bloody chunks of meat, but after they had been over the fire for a while, they looked pretty good. And one bite later, she was hooked. The taste of meat in the middle of the forest brought back even more memories from her youth. Back then, however, they never caught their own food, but brought hotdogs or pre-packed meat to barbeque, or they'd fish.

After finishing the meal, Emily leaned against the backpack, placing a hand on her stomach.

"I've got to tell you, Brad, you cook a mean rabbit."

"Thanks." Brad tore off a chunk of nearly cooked meat from the stick, and chewed it sloppily. A drop of meat juice made its way down his chin as he chomped down again, and ripped off yet another piece, pushing it into his mouth with his fingers.

Emily was glad she finished before Brad did. His table manners were horrible, and she tried not to watch as he gnawed the last bits of now quite cooked meat from the sharpened stick.

_Imagine taking him out to dinner. God, I'd be so ashamed. Look at him. His face is covered in rabbit. Yuck._

Hugging herself, Emily pulled her knees up closer to her chest. The warmth which had lingered the better part of the evening had completely disappeared by now, and the cool air made her shiver. A yawn escaped her lips.

"Man, that was a tough hike, wasn't it?" She gave Brad a glance after he finally finished mauling the flesh-on-a-stick.

"I guess." Throwing the stick into some bushes, Brad picked his teeth with his finger nails.

"It'll be nice to get some rest."

"Mhm."

Emily frowned. Her hiking partner hadn't been this quiet for a long time. It almost felt like she was bothering him in some way. Not that she minded the silence, anything to not being forced to listen to Brad's idiotic remarks on women in the FBI, which she so far had been able to ignore.

She shuddered.

"Could you hand me the sweater from my backpack?"

Brad turned around and dug through her gear before pulling out a blue knitted cardigan. "This one?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem. Here." He rose and walked around the fire to Emily, placing the cardigan over her shoulders.

"Thanks."

Brad sat down beside her and leaned back against the second backpack. This was a bit more closeness than Emily wanted at this point, but she decided to give him a chance. Perhaps he would behave.

"It's nice out here", he said suddenly, looking at the darkening sky.

"Yeah, it is."

"You've been in the forest a lot, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I camped a lot when I was young. It was kind of a hobby. How about you?"

"Naah, never been my thing."

"And still you managed to catch a rabbit?"

"My old man taught me that. We went camping a couple of times when I was a kid; I guess I still got it. After all these years." A smirk.

"Good thing you still have it, or we wouldn't have been eating that delicious rabbit."

"Glad you liked it."

Emily felt Brad's hand move around her back and coming to a rest on her shoulder. Sitting up, she shook him off.

"Brad..."

"Aw, come on Ems. We're in the middle of the forest and it's cold. Exchanging body heat is a great way to stay warm."

He moved in on her slightly, raising his other hand to reach around her, but was stopped by a determined hand.

"Brad, stop it. I told you before; I'm not interested in you that way." She began feeling very uncomfortable with this entire situation. There was something in Brad's eyes she didn't like. She had to end this right now.

"Ems..." He tried once again to get his hands on her to pull her closer to him.

"Stop it, Brad." She forcefully pushed his hand off her and stood up. "You're not listening. I don't want you! I'm sorry if that sounds rough or insensitive, but you don't seem to understand me, so I have to spell it out for you. Nothing is going to happen between us, do you understand?"

Brad sat silent, looking at her. The smirk had disappeared from his lips.

_She sure looks hot when she's mad._

"This is just a hike", Emily continued. "I was teamed up with you because there weren't enough people in my unit to make even pairs. I didn't choose to be with you."

She walked over to the other side of the fire, picking up her backpack.

"I'm gonna go to bed now, and I'm gonna forget this ever happened, okay? Tomorrow we'll start over on a blank slate, and we'll finish this hike as friends."

Brad just looked at her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Her mouth said one thing but the little glimmer in her eyes said another. He was sure about it.

Emily pushed her backpack into the tent. "Put out the fire when you're going into your tent. We don't want the camp site to burn down. Good night."

And with that she crawled into her tent and closed the zipper behind her, thankful for having gotten away from Brad's prying hands and strange looks. As she crept down into her sleeping bag she reached into her backpack.

_Just in case._

Hiding the knife under her pillow, she was fast asleep after the long day of rough hiking. The nine hour walk had taken its toll on her, and no matter how much she wanted to stay awake to hear Brad get into his tent for the night, she couldn't keep her eyes from falling shut. Not even five minutes passed before she was sound asleep.

She didn't hear the zipper being slowly pulled down. She didn't see the hands carefully pushing the flaps apart.

And she didn't feel the hand coming to rest on her thigh.


	7. When Reality Strikes

**A/N: Poor people in the forest, why must I be so evil to them? Oh, right - it's in my nature -evil grin- Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

Something was wrong.

A sudden rustling in the tent woke Emily from her sleep, but only to the extent that she could feel that something wasn't right. She couldn't quite place the feeling, but there was something just not adding up.

_What is that...?_

She shook her leg slightly to rid herself of the creeping feeling running up her thigh. It disappeared.

_What the...?_

The creeping feeling had moved to her hip and up over her waistline. Emily aimlessly threw a hand over her body, knocking something off her waist.

"Mmff..."

She turned over, curling up the best she could in the tight sleeping bag. The woman couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Moments later, her suspicions were confirmed. A determined hand made its way into the green sleeping bag, and moved tightly across Emily's stomach.

She was wide awake in less than a second, spinning around sharply only to lock eyes with Brad, who lay beside her in the tent. Stunned, all she could do was stare at him.

"Shhh..." He smirked at her and tightened his grip around her waist. "I'm here now."

Her eyes told him she wanted it. They were wide open in anticipation, and she wasn't fighting him off. She wanted him. Brad knew it. He leaned over her, moving in to kiss her beautiful soft lips.

Suddenly, Emily regained control of her limbs and forcefully pushed Brad off her. "Get off me!!" As Brad tumbled over into the side of the tent, Emily fought to get out of the tight sleeping bag. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Brad regained his balance, and pounce on Emily, pinning her to the ground. Holding her arms in a bruising grip he leaned over, a menacing look on his face. "Emily, don't fight me. We both know you want it."

"Get the hell off me!" She thrashed around violently trying to escape the iron grip holding her down. Her wrists ached from the pressure, and she could hardly move her fingers. Kicking fiercely, she finally hit Brad in the side with a knee, and he groaned – but didn't let go.

"Stop fighting, Emily, and just go with it. I know you want it, you've been wanting it ever since we started this trek."

"NO!"

"I can see it in your eyes, Ems. You're just dying to f..."

He couldn't finish his sentence before Emily had thrown her head forward, head butting him straight in the nose. Blood flowed down his face and down on her chest, and his grip finally loosened, and Emily could get away.

But the freedom was only momentary. As she bolted for the opening of the tent, a rough hand grabbed her hair and yanked her back into the arms of the delusional man. She kicked and screamed, clawed at his face, only to receive a slap straight across the face.

It didn't slow her down, and she grabbed his ears and once again slammed her forehead into his face. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth as he resolutely lifted Emily clean off the ground in the low tent and smashed her body down onto the barely covered surface.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she was momentarily incapacitated. It was enough time for Brad to straddle her and pinning her arms over her head. When she finally regained the ability to move, it was too late.

"Will you stop struggling, Emily?" A sickening smile crossed his face. "All I wanna do is love you..." He bent down over her and began licking her cheek, blood still dripping from his nose.

Emily was thoroughly nauseated by the man holding her down; his disgusting tongue running up and down her cheek. She squirmed to get away, but he was too heavy and she couldn't get her legs up to kick him. With a sharp inhale, she shifted her head, sinking her teeth into Brad's cheek.

Brad screamed straight into Emily's ear, tearing away from the sharp teeth ripping into his flesh.

Emily spat out the piece of Brad still left in her mouth as she felt the grip falling off her arms, and she ducked away from the man, trying to bolt for the opening once again, but this time she didn't get that far.

The fist caught her straight across the temple, and sent stars through her head. The all too familiar blanket of grey began spreading over her eyes as she slumped down back onto the sleeping bag.

Brad was over her in less than a second, kissing and nibbling at her skin, tearing away clothing to gain access to more soft flesh to touch.

"God, Emily... You are so sexy. I know you want me, you all do. You say no..." He paused to nibble at her collarbone. "...but it's all the same in the end. You want me, and you know it. You just play hard to get..."

He yanked the shirt open with a single movement and was lost in the sight below.

"...and I love it when you do..."

Fumbling with the belt in her combat trousers, he eagerly let his mouth run across her stomach.

Emily's hands flailed aimlessly in fruitless attempts to push Brad off. Then suddenly, just as Brad's hands reached the point of no return, she felt something under her palm. Wrapping her fingers around it, she gathered every bit of strength she could muster, and reached up towards the bare shoulders holding her down, and jammed the object deep into the tanned flesh.

A single scream echoed through the forest.

Then there was nothing.

-o-o-o-

The meal Rossi prepared for himself and his young hiking partner was a true feast. Reid had no idea something like this could be done in the nature. The fried mushrooms tasted divine and the salad-like creation with leaves, roots and berries was like a little piece of heaven. Every bit of the fantastic dinner disappeared, mostly into Reid's hungry stomach. After the berries he ate earlier and his reaction to the sight of the fish, he felt rather empty inside.

Rossi smiled as he watched the young man hungrily gobble up every smidgen of food left on his plastic plate. He mostly prepared meals for himself, and seeing someone enjoying his cooking like this was very satisfying. As Reid put the plate down on the ground with a content sigh, Rossi chuckled slightly.

"I take it you liked it?"

"Oh, yeah." The young agent licked his fingers to savor every bit of lovely tasting mushrooms he could. "It was great. I had no idea nature could offer this array of flavors."

"You haven't lived until you've lived in the forest." Rossi grabbed a bottle of water and took a few quick gulps, then threw it to Reid, who fumblingly caught it. "Drink. You lost way too much fluid already, with the puking and all."

Reid nodded and finished the bottle. He didn't want to get dehydrated in the middle of nowhere. Despite Rossi's actions earlier, he was very happy he was the one by his side through this devilish trek. If there was anyone he would choose to be stuck in the forest with, it was Rossi. The young agent knew he had the book smarts, but this sure wasn't his territory. This was Rossi's turf, as Reid had come to painfully realize, and his words served as law out here.

"You want some dessert?"

The young man's head snapped up. "What?"

Rossi held out a plate of fresh raspberries to Reid. "I saved these for after dinner. They make a great dessert. You want some?"

Reid took a handful of the pinkish red berries and one by one put them in his mouth. "How did you manage to find all this in such a short time?" he said between bites.

"Well, Reid..." Rossi said as he lay back on the ground, crossing his arms under his head. "It's all a matter of knowing where to look."

"Well, I'm impressed."

"Thanks kid." Rossi smiled. He felt himself really warming up to this young man, whom he had previously perceived being an annoying pain in the butt, all with his fact-spewing and random babbling. But having made it to the camp site in one piece, and Reid having told him about the horrific event in Georgia, Rossi couldn't help but feel a lot closer to him.

"If you want, I can teach you what berries you can and can't eat."

Reid looked at his superior with a mouthful of raspberries. "Mhm?"

"Yeah, well... If you want...you can come with me on a hike sometime. You know, to learn about the dos and don'ts of nature."

Reid swallowed with a smile. "I'd like that." He also lay back on the not so soft ground, letting the food settle in his full stomach.

Rossi smiled at the sky.

_Another hike with Prince Fumble-foot. What am I thinking? I guess he's the kind of kid that just grows on you. Besides, someone has to teach him how to survive in the woods._

As they lay silently watching the dark turning sky, a troubled look gradually came over the young agent, and he began fidgeting where he lay. Rolling his hips slightly, he rubbed his hands over his stomach.

Rossi heard the shuffling beside him and looked over at his young hiking partner. "Reid, what's wrong? Is it the fish again?"

"No, no, I..." He trailed off.

The older agent raised himself onto an elbow, turning towards the young man, who was now squirming noticeably on the ground.

"Reid?"

"It...hurts..." Reid's face contorted as he grimaced at the sky, rubbing his hands frantically over his stomach.

Concern fell over Rossi. "Where? Where does it hurt? Your stomach?" He feared that, despite his woodland experience, had picked bad mushrooms and had accidentally poisoned his young colleague.

"My hands...and my...my...!" The young agent couldn't finish his sentence, biting his lip and blushing.

"Let me see." Rossi took one of Reid's hands as he sat up. What he saw was terrifyingly familiar. "Oh my."

"What is it...?" the young agent managed to push through his teeth, still laying on the ground, pulling his legs up and resting the soles of his boot clad feet on the rubble.

"Reid... Where else do you hurt?"

The look he got from the young man was all the answer he needed. With a deep sigh, the senior agent let Reid's hand rest back on his stomach, keeping his own hand tightly over the skinny, twitching fingers.

"Kid... I don't suppose you've heard the saying 'leaves of three, let it be'?"

-o-o-o-

Morgan tried continuously to make contact with his superior who basically lay catatonic on the bed on the other side of the room. He hadn't moved an inch since the brothers last had been in the room, abusing him.

The bound and injured agent couldn't give up. He had to keep trying to get Hotch back into reality. While understanding the horrible trauma the older agent had just suffered, Morgan knew that bringing him back was essential. Hotch wasn't tied up, and calling him back to reality was their best shot at getting out of the house God forgot. He needed to get Hotch to snap out of it before the brothers returned.

"Hotch, man, wake up. You have to wake up!" He spoke as loud as he could without alerting the terrible two in the other room, who still seemed to be eating as Morgan could hear the clinging of cutlery against dishes and the busy voices chatting away. He couldn't make out any words, just a constant talking and occasional laughter.

"Hotch. Hotch!"

Shaking his head in despair, Morgan tried to move towards the bed. The moment he attempted to move his leg a fraction of an inch, the familiar white bolt of pain shot through him, and he gritted his teeth. Fighting the agony, he strenuously pulled his body across the floor. The slow crawl sent tears to his eyes, but the tormented agent refused to let them out. He couldn't let himself fall now. Hotch needed him.

Using his elbows, he dragged himself backwards on the hard wood floor, wincing with every move. When he finally reached the bed where Hotch lay motionless, he forced himself to sit up against the bed frame. Their heads almost touched as he leaned against the sodden mattress.

Morgan's head was spinning from the pain, but thankfully his leg began to go numb, but there was still the burning sensation racing through his stomach and groin.

Looking up at his superior, all he could see was a bunch of dark curls partially covered by arms tightly wrapped around the head.

"Hotch..." he panted slightly from the effort made to cross the room. "Hotch, man, you have to come back to me."

No reaction. Just short and shallow breaths.

"Hotch, listen to me. You're stronger than this. Don't close down."

No reaction.

Morgan let out a muffled groan. "Hotch. For God's sake. We have to get out of here."

No reaction.

"Listen. Listen to me. I know you can hear me. You are a strong, capable man. You're the strongest man I know; I have no idea how you get through the things you do, but somehow you manage. I wouldn't be able to handle half the things you do, but there's something inside you, something that tells you to keep going. Listen to that voice now, Hotch. Don't let them break you. It's what they want. _Do not_ let them break you."

No reaction.

Morgan had never felt closer to crying like he did at this moment. Seeing his superior, the man he admired more than anyone, lying broken like this was tearing him apart. And knowing there was nothing he could do that he hadn't already tried...

He let go. One tear fell down his cheek. Then another. The silent, angry tears that no one would ever know about ran down his face as he looked up at Hotch.

_They broke him. Someone finally broke him._

-o-o-o-


	8. Sacrifice Yourself

**A/N: I'm going seriously evil now. Just be warned. -smirk- Beta read by editor frog!!**

-o-o-o-

Emily practically threw herself out of the tent, stumbling over the jagged ground. The fire pit broke her fall, and thankfully Brad had remembered to put the fire out before sneaking into her tent.

She landed on the rocks with a yelp, banging her shoulder against one of the bigger ones. Bolting to her feet, she took to running straight into the near pitch black forest. Branches and shrubs hit her in the face as she fled the man attacking her.

As she reached a large oak, she stopped to catch her breath. Emily needed to know if Brad was following her. Panting, she tried to keep her head clear as she listened for any signs of a pursuit.

The forest was silent. A quick glance at her glow in the dark watch told her that it was almost 10PM, and the moon was already high in the sky, giving the woods an eerie glow. All she could hear was her own strained breath as she stared back at the campsite.

The suddenly, there was a roar.

"Emily!!"

Emily gasped and turned to run deeper into the forest.

At the campsite, Brad stumbled out of the tent holding his shoulder. The blade had pierced him just above the shoulder blade and he strained his good arm to pull it out. Feeling the shank of the hunting knife under his fingers, he gripped it tightly and eased it out of his massacred flesh.

Gritting his teeth, Brad growled from the burning pain and held the bloodied knife tightly in his good hand. Looking into the forest, he stopped to listen for the running woman. A distinct crackling sound caught his ear, and he smiled, clenching his teeth.

"You little bitch..." he muttered as he sat off after Emily, determined to find her.

And hurt her.

-o-o-o-

Reid couldn't stop itching where the poison ivy had caused rashes to develop. His hands were killing him, not to mention the other parts of his body which had been subjected to the nasty leaves.

In hindsight, the young agent cursed himself for not looking closer at the foliage he used to wipe himself with. He knew very well what poison ivy looked like, but something in his magnificent mind had chosen to block that very useful tidbit of information out.

He couldn't sit down, and he couldn't stand up. The rash was driving him insane.

"Stop scratching, Reid. It doesn't make it any better." Rossi stirred in a pot he had placed on the fire, which burned brightly and lit up the camp nicely. The rest of the forest was a deep opaque.

"But I can't help it!" The desperation was obvious in the young man's squeaky voice as he rubbed furiously at the affected areas.

"Just calm down." The older agent took the pot off the fire and blew on the contents. "Give me your hands."

Reid reached his red, rash-covered hands out towards Rossi as he kneeled on the ground, still fidgeting. He had never experienced something like this, and suddenly nature wasn't so alluring to him anymore. He wanted to go home to his apartment and his leather chair where there was no poison ivy for miles.

Feeling inside the pot with his fingers, Rossi lifted a slab of green muck with his fingers and began smearing it over his young colleague's hands. "This should help."

The green concoction recembled silly putty, but smelled terrible. Reid frowned. "What is that?"

"Sweet fern. It's a natural cooling balm when boiled. It should relieve the itching in a few moments."

Reid was in awe as he watched the older agent rub the cooked fern over his insanely itching fingers and palms. He had never read about this natural remedy in any of the books he owned. He did, however, humiliatingly enough, remember a passage from a book by Stephen King called _On Writing_. Basically, the same thing happened to the kid in the book which had happened to him. Nature called, he went and wiped his butt with poison ivy.

Reid's face turned an angry red as he realized that at this very moment, he was not a genius. Not at all. At this moment he was just as intelligent as a 10-year-old boy who just put a toxic plant up his tuchus. And now he was paying the price.

"Okay. That should do it." Rossi put the pot down on the ground and wiped the muck off his fingers.

Reid's gaze turned slightly desperate. "But I...um...I..."

"Oh, right." Rossi cleared his throat. "Well... How are we gonna do this then?"

"Um...I don't know." Reid blushed heavily.

"You can't use your hands with the fern on it, there's not enough to rub them again." Rossi had a nagging feeling where this was headed.

"I guess not." The young agent wouldn't let his eyes connect with those of his superior. Biting his lower lip, Reid fidgeted as he knelt on the ground.

Rossi sighed resignedly. "All right, stand up." He motioned the young man to rise, and he complied. Unbuckling the belt on the loose fitting combat trousers, the older agent didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

_The kid rubs his butt with poison ivy and now I have to clean up the mess. Nice._

Dropping Reid's trousers to the ground, Rossi held his breath and gently pulled down the bright green boxershorts. The sight greeting him wasn't the most pleasant one he could think of at the moment as he knelt before the young man. Rashes had spread from the groin area to the all too skinny thighs.

"Reid, exactly _how much_ poison ivy did you manage to rub on yourself?" He looked up at the young man, who kept his gaze steadily at the forest before him.

"Erm, I don't...I...I like to be thourough." Squeezing his mouth shut, the young agent bit his lower lip as he fought the tears of humiliation. This wasn't the way he wanted the hike to turn out.

Rossi sighed once again and took some muck from the pot. "Turn around, let's see the damage."

Reid shuffled around and presented the affected area to his superior.

Rossi gaped. "What in the world...?"

The young man made involontary puppy eyes at the sky as he heard the older agent's surprised mumble.

_This has to be the most humiliating moment in my entire life...!_

The rash was spread well over both cheeks and a good bit down the back of the thin thighs. Rossi marvelled over how thourough this young man had been in wiping himself clean. Even half had been too much. After a slow inhale, he began rubbing the slimy concoction over the rash.

When finished, he clapped Reid's leg. "Turn around."

With a deep intake of air, the older man took the last bit of muck in his hand and reluctantly smeared it over the red skin. Rossi moaned on the inside. This was not the way he wanted this hike to turn out.

_Had this been a woman, I'd be a happy camper. But a skinny kid? Yikes._

To Reid's horror, an all too familiar feeling began to spread in his nether regions; a feeling he had experienced on more than one awkward occasion.

_Oh no. Not now. Oh, please God, not now._

Rossi froze.

"Um... Reid?"

"I'm sorry..." the young man whimpered. "I can't help it!"

-o-o-o-

Leaning against the sodden mattress and worn down bedframe, Morgan looked out the dirty window. The forest was pitch black.

_Even if we could get out of here we wouldn't make it far in that darkness. I'm no stranger to hiking, but I'm not stupid enough to move during the night. But then again... What animals are the worst? The ones outside the cabin – or the ones in it?_

Looking up at his motionless colleague, he let out a deep sigh.

"Hotch. Come on. You need to come back to me."

Hotch could hear someone talking to him, but he couldn't place to voice. It was so familiar, and still he had no idea who it was. He felt it would be better just to stay still, and maybe there wouldn't be more pain. Maybe the person talking to him could help? The agent didn't dare take that risk. He remained still on the foul smelling surface.

Suddenly, there were rapid and heavy footsteps moving towards the bedroom. Morgan's head snapped up from its resting place.

_Oh no._

"Hey, he's a movin'!" Cooter entered the room, pointing at Morgan. "We got us a live one, Pervis!"

"Well, lookie there! I though he'd be as useful as a three legged guard dawg!" Pervis advanced on the bound agent by the bedside. As he reached down to grab the collar of the green shirt, Morgan spat in his face.

"Don't touch me!" Pain shot through his body as he kicked with his good leg, trying to keep the bearlike man at a distance.

Pervis stared at the struggling man on the floor for a moment, then sent a fist straight across his face. The blow sent Morgan reeling over the floor and his head cracked against the hard wood below. The impact blackened his sight for a moment, but blinking it away, the man was soon alert again. But now he was being dragged across the floor, back to where he started his crawl from. He was dumped unceremoniously onto the wood below him, and a yelp of pain escaped him.

"Now ya stay yourself over there, boy! An if ya know what's best fer ya, ya hush up!" Pervis kicked the broken leg, causing Morgan to grit his teeth and choke down a groan.

Both brothers moved back to the bed where Hotch lay, still in his catatonic state after the previous trauma. As they started to pull at the limp man once again, Morgan lashed out.

"Don't touch him! Get away from him!"

The brothers laughed. "Or what, boy? Whatcha gonna do, huh? Jump us?" Cooter taunted the bound agent as he yanked at Hotch's arms.

Morgan knew he had to get them away from Hotch, at any cost. Anything they did to him would only deepen the trauma and possibly make it impossible for his superior to snap out of the state he was in.

"Why don't you come over here and I'll show you what I'll do?!"

Cooter grinned at him. "Hush up, boy, an let us play!"

"Yeah, whatcha say, partner?" Pervis leaned over the motionless Hotch. "Wanna give daddy another ride?"

"He's dead weight!" Morgan knew he had to do this. "If you want a ride, you come over here!"

"Now that ain't gonna happen, boy. This one here s'gonna be a fun toy!" Pervis flipped Hotch over onto his stomach. He didn't make a sound as his face hit the mattress.

"Nah, I should have known you wouldn't want someone who'd put up a fight! You bastards are so damn yellow, you have to knock them out before you do anything!" He was desperate. He had to get them away from Hotch.

"I told you to hush up, boy!" Cooter pointed menacingly at the bound agent.

"Did you have to knock your momma out too, or did she come willingly!?"

That one hit the spot. Pervis turned towards Morgan, his eyes as dark as the sky outside. "Whad'ya say 'bout ma momma now!?"

Morgan swallowed. "I guess she came willingly. What's the matter? Cousin dad didn't do enough for her?"

The brothers let go of the limp superior and stomped across the floor towards the incapacitated agent.

One kick. Two kicks. One to the head. Blinding pain. Then blissful darkness.

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Oh, my trusted fans.. I'm going to have to leave you for a short period of time due to a term paper and a final exam that needs my full attention, so there won't be any updates for.. Oh, let's be reasonable and say a week. But I WILL return, have no fear. I love you all for reading this and I'm hoping for a buttload of reviews on this chapter to keep my strength up during my time of insane studying. R&R my loves!!**

**I'll see you soon!**


	9. What the Darkness Holds

**A/N: Yeah, like I could stay away... This is a story begging to be written down, and I'm gonna have to do that. Might be some slight delays tho, on the count of the exams. But here's another chapter. Beta read by editor frog!**

**!! Warning !! Non-con-something in here, and some nasty stuff. And I should put a warning in here for sickening sweetness as well. -barf-**

-o-o-o-

There was something in his mouth. Pushing the object around with his tongue, Morgan could finally spit it out on the floor below him. The coppery taste lingering between his lips made him sick.

Slowly opening his eyes, he looked at the object he had just spat out.

It was a tooth.

He tried to move his head and was greeted with a sharp pain racing from temple to temple. The slight movement, however, was enough for him to see that he was lying in a puddle of blood. He tried to clear his head enough to remember what had happened to leave him in this battered state.

One eye refused to open, no matter how hard he tried. His arms were tightly bound behind his back and his leg throbbed horribly, but the sharp pain was gone. All that was left was the dull throbbing that mercilessly clung to his severed leg.

He heard laughter and sickening slapping sounds from the other side of the room. He looked up, raising his head just enough to see above the footboard of the bed with his good eye. He wished he hadn't.

Hotch's eyes were wide open, staring straight into his. His body seemed limp, but it didn't stop the two brothers from indulging themselves in the game they were playing with his defenseless superior.

His eyes were so full of pain; so helpless. Morgan tried to hoist himself up onto his elbows, but the bolt shooting through his head prevented him. He coughed and spat more blood onto the floor.

"Well, now see there, Pervis! Seems we haven't done gone killed him after all!" The slapping noises stopped for a moment, and footsteps moved towards the bleeding agent struggling against his bonds.

A strong hand grabbed Morgan's shirt and lifted him clean off the floor. "On yer feet, boy!"

Morgan yelped from the pressure suddenly put on his damaged leg, and wobbled where he tried to stand. The hand held his collar tightly as it began pulling him over towards the bed where Hotch was being abused.

He stumbled, nearly fell, growled all the way over, and was then unceremoniously dumped face first on the foul mattress. Turning his head, the agent's eyes connected with those of his superior.

"Hotch."

There was no answer from the senior agent, just a silent, desperate stare into his younger colleague's eyes.

_Who is that man...? Can he help me? I know I've seen him before..._

"Now, boy – ya gonna make yaself useful!" Pervis laughed and flipped Hotch over onto his back, making the superior's head turn in the opposite direction, away from Morgan.

Morgan stared at the man holding Hotch's ankles. "What the hell is wrong with you people?" he spat.

"Now, now, boy..." Cooter shook his finger at the incapacitated agent and took hold of his shirt, pulling him up into a sitting position. "Shouldn't be talking that dirty with that purdy mouth of yours!"

Had Morgan not been bound, bleeding and busted up, he would have beaten the living shit out of these two redneck bastards. The look he gave Cooter and Pervis could have stopped a herd of stampeding rhinoceroses, but having the combined IQ of a raisin, they had no idea who they were playing around with.

"You sick freaks."

Pervis and Cooter laughed in chorus. "We's gots sumthin fer ya to do, boy." Pervis took hold of Morgan's head and turned it towards the sprawled agent beside him on the disgusting bed.

"See, ya'll city folks are real fun to play with. But it's even more fun seeing you play..." he paused to push Morgan's head down towards Hotch's crotch. "...with each other."

"No." Morgan twisted around and tore loose from the hand holding his head, trying to crawl away. As he attempted to move to the other side of the bed, he was met by the long double-barreled end of a 30X30 Winchester.

"Hold it right there, boy." Cooter smirked. "Ya don't do as we say; ya gets a bullet in that stupid head of yours."

"I'm not doing this!" Morgan was furious, sweat dripping down his brow onto the foul smelling mattress.

"Aight. Well, lemme put it this way. Ya don't do as we say; _he_ gets a bullet in his pretty face." Moving the barrel over to the dark curls of the motionless agent beside Morgan, Cooter let another huge smile cross his lips.

"No, don't! Don't!" Panic spread through Morgan's system.

_Hotch!_

"All right! All right."

Very reluctantly, Morgan raised himself onto his elbows and managed to sit up. Leaning over his superior, he blinked the enraged tears away.

_I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry._

"That's right, boy", Pervis said crossing his arms over his chest. "Open wide."

-o-o-o-

Reid lay in his tent trying to hide away from the darkness that engulfed the forest. He lay on his side, since that was the only way he could possibly find any peace, seeing the rash was bad enough to prevent him from lying in any other way. It still itched, but the muck Rossi had smeared on it actually helped, and Reid hoped he'd be better in the morning.

The young agent lay there pondering how in the world he would ever be able to face his senior colleague again after what had happened before outside the tent. It was bad enough that he had to expose himself to the older man like that, but the fact that he hadn't been able to control his own body was just too much.

The whole situation was beyond absurd.

After the humiliation by the campfire was over, and Rossi had helped him to pull up his pants, the young agent had quickly crawled into his tent after mumbling a low 'thank you'. He couldn't bear the thought of having to sit by the camp fire with a load of green muck in his pants and a man who just got an involuntary erection shoved in his face by his side.

Now Reid lay in the tent and listened to Rossi putting out the fire and watched the last specks of light die out. The forest was pitch black without the fire brightening the surroundings, and the darkness began to make the young agent feel very distressed. He now remembered why he never went camping as a child--no night lights.

There was rustling outside his tent.

"Reid?"

The young man winced. He didn't want to talk to his senior colleague. Not now. Not ever again. Not after tonight.

"Reid, are you asleep?"

He knew he couldn't hide forever.

"No."

"Can I come in?"

Reid squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yes."

Rossi pulled up the zipper and crawled into the tent holding a flashlight and closed the zipper behind him. "There are loads of mosquitoes out there. Don't wanna let them in." He crawled up towards the top end of the tent and sat down. He saw the distressed look on his young colleague's face.

"Look, kid. About what happened out there..."

"I don't want to talk about it." Reid wanted to turn around, but there was no way he could. His entire lower section hurt, and turning wasn't an option at this time. He was facing Rossi and that was the way it was going to stay, unfortunately.

"I just want you to know it's okay."

Reid just looked at the older man, who cleared his throat.

"Well, I mean – these things happen, right? It's normal. You're a young man and you can't really...you know...control it."

The young agent looked away, thoroughly ashamed.

"Look, no one is going to know about this. Sometimes our bodies do things we don't want it to do."

Rossi let out a small chuckle and scratched his beard.

"When I was 13 I was an altar boy in the church. I was bringing out this big cross from the sacristy to place on the altar. All of a sudden I see Cathy McCord sitting on the front row, looking straight at me with a big smile on her lips." He smirked. "She was, without a doubt, the prettiest girl in school. In a matter of moments, my mind had drifted so far away from what I was doing; I didn't even have time to see it coming. I just felt it."

Reid frowned. "Did you...?"

"In church, in front of the preacher and the whole congregation."

"Oh. Did they...?"

"Kid, I could have hidden a patrol of cub scouts under that thing. They saw."

Reid looked at his senior colleague. It felt somehow soothing that he had told him this insanely embarrassing story. Somewhere inside him he felt a slight bubbling feeling. It grew stronger and stronger until he could no longer hold it in, and he laughed. And so did Rossi. The two men laughed until their stomachs cramped, not just at the church-incident, but at the situation they were in, and had been in. Everything seemed so unreal, and all they could do was really to laugh at it.

Rossi leaned back onto the backpack Reid had pushed into the tent as he tried to gain his breath. "It was the most humiliating moment of my life."

"I can imagine." Reid wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with his sticky hand.

The older man looked at his colleague with a fatherly smile on his lips. "But I survived. And I went back to church every Sunday."

Reid nodded, squeezing his mouth into a flat smile.

"It's not the end of the world."

"I know."

Rossi patted the young agent on the shoulder and got onto his hands and knees to crawl out. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah." A sudden sting hit Reid in the stomach. "Rossi?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kind of...uh...I'm..."

"Spill it, kid – what's wrong?"

_Oh please, don't let him need to go to the bathroom._

"I'm...a bit...uh...uncomfortable with the dark."

"Oh?"

"And I was wondering if I could have the flashlight?"

Rossi smiled at his young colleague. "Sure." Handing the flashlight to Reid, he turned back to leave the tent, but stopped. "Hey, kid."

"Mhm?"

"You want me to stay a while? Until you go to sleep? I mean if you're afraid of the dark and all..."

"No, no, I'm fine."

"You know where to find me. Good night." With that, the older agent crawled out of the tent and zipped it up. He had only taken a few steps towards his tent, which was nearly completely engulfed in the opaqueness, before he heard a small voice from the tent he just left.

"Rossi...?"

With a smirk, he turned around and crawled back into the tent. Reid lay on the tent floor looking more than uncomfortable with the dark around him.

"Can I, uh...take you up on that?"

"Sure." Sitting down beside the young agent, Rossi placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good night, kid."

"Good night. And thank you."

"No problem, Reid. Now go to sleep. We have a long hike tomorrow."

Reid nodded slightly and closed his eyes, and in a few moments he was fast asleep. The security of having Rossi so close by soothed him, and he slept a calm and dreamless sleep.

Rossi sat looking at the sleeping young man for a while, then lay back on the tent floor beside him, crossing his arms behind his head.

_Is this what it's like to have a son? In that case, I can get used to it._

-o-o-o-

Emily ran. The soft ground beneath her feet seemed to move as her feet practically flew over it. Sticks flew up; hitting her legs and trees appeared out of nowhere as she fled. Nearly colliding with a thick birch, she swerved to the left and tripped over a large rock.

Hitting the ground with a loud crackle, she yelped from a sudden, stabbing pain in her mid section. Panting, she looked down on her bare stomach. A sharp stick had penetrated her abdomen and blood gushed from the wound.

Pulling the stick out with a muffled groan, she realized that it had been lodged in her stomach a good two inches. Emily pressed her hand against the injury and stumbled to her feet. She had to find somewhere to hide so she could dress the wound somehow.

Stopping behind a large oak, she listened for footsteps following her. She knew Brad was out there and she didn't want to encounter him in the dark.

_I should have aimed further to the left..._

Hearing nothing, she took to running once again, this time with much less strength than before. The pain in her abdomen bothered her, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins reduced it to a simple burning sensation. Keeping pressure on it, she searched the woods for a place to hide.

Emily found her hiding place under a tree which had tipped over, probably during a storm. Its huge roots served as a well enough place to seek shelter under. Feeling reasonably protected, she began tearing off a long piece of cloth from her already torn shirt. Binding the wound, she winced as she put more pressure on. The pain was more obvious now once the adrenaline had settled slightly.

_What the hell is going on?! How did I end up in this much trouble? I have to get out of here. But I can't move now, it's pitch black. I have no map, I have no compass. Where the hell am I gonna go? I have to make it back to camp and get the map._

She moaned as she finished dressing the injury. Noticing there wasn't a lot of blood; Emily figured it hadn't hit any major organs, at least not the liver. The blood that did emerge from the gash was pure red and not reddish black which signified a liver injury. It wasn't too bad.

Leaning her head back against the foul smelling soil behind her, she sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn't believe the situation she'd gotten herself into. Now she had to think of a way to get out of it.

Suddenly, a taunting voice came from above her.

"Peek-a-boo, I see you..."

Emily's head snapped up and her eyes connected in the moonlight with those of the man hunting her in the forest. Brad.

"Got you now, bitch."

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: BUM BUM BUUUUM! Let's see how long I'm gonna let you wait for the next chap.. -evil smirk-**


	10. Kill Me Slowly

**A/N: Yeah - LIKE I COULD STOP WRITING!? Man, this thing is killing my schoolwork bigtime. I want to see that it's worth skipping the stupid homework for, so R&R, dolls - I need the confidence boost. And maybe to let me know if I'm being to mean?**

**And a warning: I have been called something utterly despicable in one of the reviews I got, which I never want to be called ever again. I am deeply, deeply offended here. I considered removing it, but I'm keeping it as a reminder. And just for the record, to all you out there reading my stories: Next person who calls me a SOFTIE will be instantly be decapitated, minced and fed to the dogs from The Big Game. Thank you. tellygirl, you know I love you, babes -hugs-**

-o-o-o-

Emily crawled backwards, away from the man closing in on her under the roots of the tipped over tree. The look in his eyes was anything but pleasant. Even in the moonlight the distressed woman could see the gleam in his eyes. He was out to hurt her.

"Brad..."

"Emily."

"You don't want to do this."

"Hell yeah, I do." Brad slowly advanced on her, brandishing the knife he held in his good hand. The back of his shirt was covered in blood. "Emily, you stabbed me in the back! That's not a nice thing to do!"

"I know, I'm sorry." She knew she had to buy some time to make a run for it. He was too close to her right now, but she continued to move backwards as he advanced on her. Suddenly, a large pile of soil stopped her slow escape. "Brad, please."

"Don't 'Brad, please' me! You stabbed me..._in the back_!" Pointing the knife straight at Emily's face, Brad's eyes glinted with anger. His breath was short and strained and the woman could see his struggle with the pain in his shoulder.

"I was shocked! I didn't know what you wanted!" She reached out a hand towards the man threatening her. "Please. I'm sorry." Emily forced a weak smile to cross her lips.

"Shut up!!" Brad screamed the words a few inches from her face as he leaned over her. "This time _I _have the knife, and you are just going to _shut up_!"

The man began tearing at her clothes while Emily waited for the perfect moment. It came when Brad momentarily lowered the knife to unbutton her trousers. She pushed him violently backwards, and as he hit the soil behind him, the woman heard an agonized howl emerge from his throat.

Taking it as her cue to escape, she began climbing up the roots, away from the insane man below. Her escape was cut short as she felt the blinding pain of the knife being jammed deep in the back of her thigh.

Emily screamed in agony, loosing her grip of the roots and fell back onto the agent already below her, who quickly pushed her down onto the damp dirt and straddled her.

"Will you stop fighting me, bitch?!" A hard slap crossed Emily's face and she was momentarily blind. It was enough time for Brad to tear off her shirt and undergarment and roughly begin to handle what was underneath.

When Emily came to, she could feel the searing pain in her thigh rising with every move she made. Punching and screaming at the man atop her, she tried desperately to get him off. Finally she landed a fist straight over his face, causing his nose to bleed heavily once again.

The look in Brad's eyes darkened. Letting go of her body, he let his hands close around the slender neck below him, squeezing it tightly. He leaned forward, putting his entire weight on his hands.

"You little bitch. You could have had me. Everything could have been fine. We could have had a great time."

Emily struggled for air. Gaping and croaking, she tried to bend Brad's finger off her throat, but failed. She began banging her fists against his arms and chest.

"But no", Brad continued, still hissing through his teeth. "You had to go and _ruin_ everything by being a little bitch! This is what happens to little bitches!"

He put even more pressure on Emily's throat, and a blanket of grey began spreading over her eyes.

Flailing her arms in defense, she desperately tried to fight Brad off, but in stead her fingers landed on something protruding from her leg.

_He left it in._

Mere seconds before she would black out completely, she gathered every ounce of strength she could muster and yanked the knife from her thigh. As her eyes began to roll back into her head, in one swift move she jammed the six inch hunting knife straight into Brad's crotch.

He didn't even scream. Emily could feel him stiffen on top of her as her eyes finished their roll as she slowly slipped away.

-o-o-o-

Rossi awoke from a terrible scream. Thoroughly confused, he flew up to a sitting position, staring around the tent.

The young man beside him was twisting and turning on the tent floor, screaming at the top of his lungs. Flailing his arms, the man tried to fight away something awful in his dreams.

The older man leaned over Reid, grabbing his shoulders while trying to duck the wildly waving arms. "Reid! Reid, wake up!" Shaking the young agent, Rossi attempted to pull him out of his horror and back into the real world.

The arm hitting him over the mouth sent stars across his eyes, and Rossi fell back against the tent wall, ripping the tent strings from their places in the ground. The tent partially collapsed over the two agents, as Reid continued to thrash around in wild panic, screaming his lungs out.

Wiping blood from his mouth, the older agent pushed the collapsed tent away and sat back up. Raising a hand, he forcefully landed a slap over the young man's cheek. "Reid! Wake up!"

Reid's eyes flew open, and he sat straight up in the flaccid tent. "No!! Don't! I don't want it! I don't want it!" He screamed straight into the air, covering his head with his arms. Violent sobs and coughs emerged from his throat.

Rossi reached out for the young agent, trying to call him back to reality. "Reid, you're dreaming! It's me; it's Rossi!"

"No! No, no, _please_, I don't want it!" The young man began fighting away the hands trying to calm him down, hitting them and pushing them away as he pulled his knees up to his chest.

The older agent roughly grabbed his young colleague and yanked him into his arms. Despite the fierce thrashing in his arms, he managed to hold Reid tight until the young agent finally subsided and became limp in his superior's arms. Soft sobs and cries escaped his lips as he let his slender fingers find the folds of Rossi's wrinkled shirt and grab them tightly, pulling himself closer into the strong arms holding him.

"Kid, kid, kid... Calm down. It was just a dream." Rossi wiped some blood on his shoulder and continued to hold his younger colleague close.

"He...he made me..." Reid whimpered through his tears.

"I know. I know, kid. But he's not here. It's just a dream."

"I didn't want it..."

"Spencer. I know."

Stroking the sweat-drenched curls resting on his chest, Rossi could feel the young agent shake in his arms. His dream had truly scared him half to death. He felt so sorry for this young, delicate man who had been through so much. It had been beyond the older agent to understand how this man could possibly have gone on with his life after what had happened in Georgia, but this incident showed him that everything wasn't what it seemed.

Reid wasn't fine--at least, not at night. The memories still haunted him. Somehow, Rossi was glad he was here. He had a feeling this young man needed someone to lean on, someone to hold on to right now. And Rossi was happy to be the one.

The sobs eventually subsided and turned into deep, coarse breaths, and the grip around the superior's shirt loosened. The young agent had fallen asleep in his colleague's arms.

Rossi kept his arms snugly around the young man as he eased himself down onto the tent floor. Reid lay partially on his chest and partially curled up on the ground beside him. The wet curls fanned out over his green shirt as the older agent stroked them carefully.

He had never had a grown man fall asleep in his arms before, but he mused that there was a first for everything. It wasn't really customary for Rossi to hug his subordinates, but somehow this was different.

Somehow, this felt right.

-o-o-o-

Morgan spat and coughed, trying to get the sickening taste out of his mouth. His arms were killing him, being tied tightly behind his back as he leaned on his elbow. The act he had just performed would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Hotch hadn't moved an inch during the whole procedure, not even let out a sharp exhale as release came. He simply stared into the wall on the other side of the bed, seemingly not connected at all to the real world. On the other hand, that might have been the best thing he could do at the time.

Pervis grabbed Morgan's collar and ripped him from the bed and dragged the coughing agent over the floor, dropping him roughly in the far left corner next to the cast iron stove.

"That's sum good suckin, boy! Guess those purdy lips of yers finally came to good use!" A boot tapped Morgan in the stomach when he refused to answer.

Gritting his teeth, the bound agent felt the horrid taste in his mouth and could no longer hold his stomach calm. Vomiting violently over the floor, he curled up on the wooden boards until the dry heaves set in and his stomach began cramping.

Cooter frowned. "Man, he's a messy one. That be the second time he'd be pukin'!"

"An' he's bleedin' all over the floor!" Pervis prodded the severed leg with the tip of his boot, eliciting a groan from Morgan. "He'd be more trouble than fun!"

"I'm not here to make you happy, you sick motherfuckers!" Morgan was beyond furious and didn't really care anymore if he enraged the two brothers. All his years as a cop and federal agent didn't mean squat in the situation he was currently in. There wasn't a strategy or a manipulative way to get out of this cabin, and it sent Morgan into complete rage.

He had wanted to help Hotch, but all he accomplished was to make the situation even worse. He cursed himself for actually believing that it would work. But he had been forced to try.

"Let us go!" he screamed at the brothers, who simply laughed at him.

"An' where ya gonna go, huh boy? Ain't nuthin but woods out there, and yous with yer leg, ya ain't gonna make it far." Pervis smirked disgustingly as he took a few steps towards the agent struggling on the floor.

"You'd be amazed what I can do." Morgan hissed through his teeth as he looked up at the bear-like man in front of him.

"Ya know, I thinks we's gots a real fighter here, Cooter." Pervis nodded towards the door. "Ya knows what we does to fighters outs here, boy?"

"I've seen what you bastards do. Bring it on."

"Naah, ya ain't seen nuthin, boy." Pervis turned to Cooter, who handed him the Winchester rifle. Pulling the gauge back, he aimed the barrels straight at Morgan's head. "When we's gots us a fighter, wes makes sure we takes the spirit out of 'em!"

Morgan stared down the twin barrels of the Winchester. "Go ahead. I really don't care anymore. You're not gonna let us go, so just do it and get it over with." He wasn't sure if they were serious or not, but he prayed his confidence would throw them off. He was wrong.

Moving the barrels down Morgan's body, Pervis let it come to a rest three feet from the already partially severed leg, and pulled the trigger.

The blast and the piercing scream made Hotch jerk his head up. For the first time in a long time, he had been pulled back into reality. He saw Morgan twisting in agony on the floor, blood gushing from the part of the leg that barely clung to the rest of it. Bits of bone stuck out and severed flesh hung loosely from the calf. The screams emerging from the wounded agent was heartbreaking.

After a few moments, the screams lowered to a pain filled whimper and then died out. Hotch let his head fall back onto the mattress but remained still. He heard the men talk on the other side of the room.

"We'll take care of the mess tamarrow. He'll be out now fer a while, so we might as well hit the hay." Cooter yawned and stretched his arms over his head.

Agreeing, Pervis took Hotch's clothes from the floor and threw Cooter the shirt. "Wouldn't want this purdy man catchin' a cold now, would we?" As Cooter shook his head, they sloppily dressed the incapacitated agent, neglecting buttons and zippers. They then lifted him off the bed and dumped him on the floor next to the unconscious man already lying there.

"He ain't gonna be wakin' up any time soon." Pervis smirked and threw a blanket over the men.

Hotch listened as the brothers went to bed, but remained completely still, not to raise their attention. He still wasn't completely clear on what had happened to him, or why they were there, but the pain he felt in very uncomfortable parts of his body was not to be mistaken. But the superior swallowed his agony, and pushed it aside – for now. The task at hand called for his full attention, and he couldn't let himself be blinded by his own pain.

He looked at Morgan who lay unconscious beside him, beaten black and blue.

_Don't worry, Morgan. We'll be okay. We'll be fine. I'll get us out__ of this. Just hang in there, Morgan. I'll get us out. Somehow._

_-o-o-o-_


	11. Deliverance

**A/N: Okay, the exam is over for now, so here's the next chapter as promised! Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

Emily blinked. Even though she had opened her eyes, it didn't get much brighter. Looking up, all she could see was darkness. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she could make out shapes and forms. The large roots towering over her gave her a clue that she was somewhere in the forest.

Her throat hurt badly, and she tried to clear it. It sent a sharp pain through her entire neck and up to her ears, and she winced. Moving to sit up she gave a slight moan from the intense agony shooting through her stomach and thigh, and suddenly it all came back to her.

The assault, the flight and the second attack, everything hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked around and spotted Brad lying on his back next to her. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. Blood covered his pants from the groin down to his knees. The knife still protruded from next to his zipper.

Emily shivered.

_Did I kill him?_

Reaching over to Brad, she clenched her teeth as the pain in her stomach doubled, and put two fingers to his carotid. There was a pulse. Steady and fairly strong.

She could breathe again. But another thought hit the woman sitting awkwardly on the foul smelling soil.

_What am I going to do now?_

Emily knew she needed to get back to camp; to somehow get to the rendezvous point and send help back for Brad. But where was camp?

The forest around her was almost completely dark, only the faint moonbeams gave any light at all. Strenuously crawling out from under the huge roots, she looked around to find any land marks of any sort. Emily had no idea what directions she had come from or where she had been headed, she had just been in such immense panic to get away that she just ran.

Trying to calculate the distance she covered before jumping down under the fallen tree, and the direction she figured would be most possible, the injured woman began limping slowly through the woods, blindly searching for the camp site she had left an unknown time earlier in a fit of panic.

-o-o-o-

Finally, the night had become serene, free from nightmares and embarrassing moments. The two agents sharing a tent had both fallen asleep in their partially flaccid shelter.

Rossi had drifted off only moments after he lay down. The day had been straining enough to sink a rhino, and he had been very thankful when it finally ended. Falling asleep, his arms remained around the huddled form lying partly on him and partly beside him.

A small sound woke Reid from his sleep. It was a crackling just outside the tent, and the young agent jerked his head up, staring blindly into the near opaqueness surrounding him.

_What was that?! I hate the forest!_

There was something putting weight on his back and he moved his shoulders to shake it off, but the restraint didn't budge. As the young man turned his head, he realized he was being held.

_Rossi?_

Reid didn't remember the nightmare he'd been having earlier, and was therefore completely oblivious to the reason he was being embraced being his sleeping colleague.

For a moment he felt an urge to crawl away, but something told him to stay in the strong arms protecting him. There was a safety there that he hadn't felt for a long time. The hands on his back held him tight and provided shelter against whatever dangers lurked in the darkness outside the tent.

The young man let his head rest on Rossi's chest once again, but this time he faced his senior colleague. Looking at the rugged features before him, the man couldn't help but give a small smile and a choked giggle. This was not at all something he'd think Rossi would do. The young man mused that he must have misjudged his older colleague, and closed his eyes, reclaiming his hold on the folds of the wrinkled shirt.

He lay there for a while, listening to the strong and steady heartbeats thumping underneath him. The rhythmical sound soothed the young man back to sleep, and he slowly drifted off into dreamland, safely held through the night by his older colleague.

-o-o-o-

Hotch waited.

Eventually the movements from the bed subsided and the cabin fell still, apart from the loud duet of snores emanating from the cousin brothers, who apparently shared the same bed.

The agent cautiously lifted his head and slowly pushed the blanket off his eyes. Casting a glance over towards the bed, he could see the brothers sleeping soundly. Taking the blanket and dragging it off his younger counterpart, he winced.

There was blood everywhere.

Placing a hand on his colleague's throat, he searched for a pulse. He found it, happy to feel it strong and steady. Morgan was alright – for the moment being. Now all Hotch had to do was get them out of there somehow.

_Easier said than done. He can't walk with that leg, and that's even assuming I'm able to wake him up._

Hotch carefully shook Morgan's shoulder. There was no reaction.

"Morgan." He used the lowest possible tone of whisper as he addressed the younger man. "Morgan, wake up."

No response.

_Damn._

Going over the options in his head, Hotch realized there weren't that many. Bottom line, however, was that they had to get out of here before the brothers woke up again.

Shaking Morgan once again, this time more forcefully, the superior still got no response. With a very silent sigh, he carefully crawled up to his knees, careful not to make any movements that might betray him. Stretching his neck, he looked over at the brothers, still snoring peacefully. He looked around the room, trying to figure out what to do next.

Hotch didn't have a choice. Morgan was unresponsive, and they were currently in a potentially life threatening situation. They needed to escape, and fast. He took a few moments to button up his trousers before taking action.

Keeping a close eye on the sleeping men, the agent took a hold of his colleague's limp arm as he slowly and silently rose to his feet. He hadn't expected the searing pain shooting through his nether regions, and he bit his lip not to cry out loud. Staggering slightly from the surprise jolt, he quickly regained his stance and pushed the pain away along with the vivid and disturbing flashes of memory that raced through his head.

This was a matter of survival.

Ever so slowly, Hotch dragged Morgan to a sitting position; careful not to make any noise that could give him up. Now came the hard part.

Bending over, the superior lifted the younger man swiftly over his shoulder, holding a tight arm around the limp legs that hung heavy over his torso. The partially severed leg still bled, but not as bad as expected. Pausing, he listened closely for any sign of the brothers waking up. The snoring hadn't stopped, not even for a moment.

Hotch didn't dare to breathe. He knew that making any sound at all would be the end of both him and Morgan. He stood still for a few moments, making sure there were no movements in the bed. There were none, and Hotch took a long, slow and deep breath before taking his step over the wooden floor. He prayed the boards beneath him wouldn't give off any creaks to alarm the gruesome twosome.

The first step was silent. So were the second, and the third. Having had his hiking boots ripped off earlier, Hotch could make his steps softer than they would have been otherwise. Taking slow, careful steps, he walked out of the bedroom, still praying that he wouldn't walk into anything in the pitch black cabin. He saw a window on the other side of the room they had passed through earlier before being tied up in the bedroom, and the slight bit of light from the moon sneaking its way through it fell on the wooden door about 20 feet away from him.

20 feet. 20 feet to freedom. Hotch slowly moved across the floor, careful not to make a sound. He held Morgan's legs tightly, hoping to God that he wouldn't wake up right now and start making noises.

As he crept silently over the floor of the larger room, he spotted the Winchester leaning against a crummy looking couch.

_We'll have a slightly better chance if I had that._

Carefully reaching out, he took the rifle by the barrel and slowly lifted it off the floor, pulling the strap gently over his head and arm, letting it rest together with Morgan on his back as he crept across the ancient floor boards.

Bullets of sweat began to run down his brow and temples as he carried the unconscious agent over his shoulder while trying desperately to watch his every step not to bump into anything or make the floor creak, all the while concentrating heavily on the snoring in the bedroom, making sure it didn't seize.

Step by step, Hotch eased himself closer and closer to the door, holding his breath most of the way. Finally, the metal handle of the heavy looking wooden door was within reach, and he softly placed his free hand on the hatch.

_This is it._

Slowly pressing down on the handle, Hotch was surprised it didn't make a single sound. It was unlocked and slid open easily. Hesitantly he moved the surprisingly heavy wooden portal out of his way, and his eyes fell on the forest outside.

The deep and impenetrable Alabama forest at night was something Hotch had never even imagined seeing, and had never had any urge to see either. Considering his current situation, it wasn't very likely he'd ever have the urge to see it. There wasn't a thought in his mind that he would ever set foot in a forest of any kind ever again.

He took a step out onto the porch. Making sure nothing he carried could hit the doorframe, the superior took another step and was now completely outside the cabin. As he slowly turned around, Hotch drew a deep breath and reached for the door to close it.

As the door silently slid back into place, Hotch released the handle and let out his breath.

_Thank God._

Turning back to the dark and eerie forest, the agent continued his cautious walk down the half rotten stairs. A quick estimate of how much weight could be put on the steps told him that he and Morgan together probably weighed as much as Pervis and the steps hadn't cracked from _his_ weight yet.

He made it out onto the dirt in front of the cabin, and felt relieved that he could finally take sensible steps and not worry about boards creaking under his feet. Hotch hoisted Morgan higher up onto his shoulder, and set his sight on the thick forest ahead, hoping desperately that there weren't any more bear traps along his route.

Suddenly, a sharp sound came from behind the agents. It was the sound of metal releasing from wood. As Hotch spun around, he saw to his horror how the heavy front door of the cabin slowly slid open.

_No..._

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Okay, so this is what you get. I have a termpaper due on monday that I have to work on, but after that - I am free. And believe me I will write like crazy during the summer hiatus. Possibly, I will post another chap during the weekend, but no promises. Hope you liked this one!**


	12. From a Distance

**A/N: I know you guys have been aching for this chap, so here it is! Hope you like it! Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

Hotch stood as if paralyzed, watching as the heavy wooden door slid open. Holding his breath, he tightened his grip around Morgan's limp legs as he prepared to make a run for it. He expected to see a double gauge barrel poking through the doorway, and instantly remembered the rifle on his back.

Struggling with his one free hand, he finally got the Winchester into firing position and hoped that it was already cocked. The agent stared at the slowly opening door, keeping his finger on the trigger.

But nothing happened. The door slid open into total silence. Nothing poked out or passed through it.

Hotch let out his restrained breath.

He figured he hadn't closed the door properly and that caused it to blow open. As he stood pointing the twin barrels of the Winchester at the dark inside of the cabin, he began to wonder if the sharp sound had awoken the brothers. Sweat poured down his forehead as he slowly took a few steps backwards.

Morgan was heavy. The superior needed both his hands to hold the younger agent hanging over his shoulder. A minute passed by as Hotch moved backwards, never letting the doorway out of his sight; and never lowering the rifle.

_If they'd woken up, they'd be out here by now._

Shifting his hold on the rifle, he caught the strap and pulled it over his head and shoulder, letting it rest on his back once again. Turning away from the cabin from hell, the man began to trudge through the forest in his socks, feeling every stick and rock under the soles of his feet. This was not going to be an easy hike.

Looking up at the moon and estimating the time they had been in the cabin, he placed the hour somewhere between two and four AM. He tried to somehow calculate the direction in which he needed to head to reach the rendezvous point, since the map and compass had been left in the cabin. The moon's position gave him an inkling on where he should be headed, and so he sat off, trying to keep a fairly good pace to get as far away from the cabin as possible before the cousin-brothers woke up and noticed them missing.

The rugged ground under Hotch's feet made him wince with every step he took, but he bit his lip and continued. He had to. It was the only way the two battered agents were going to survive.

Focusing on landmarks, the superior trudged through the woods, struggling to keep his colleague safely on his shoulder.

He never saw the two faces in the window behind him as he disappeared into the dark forest. Neither did he see the grins which were plastered on them.

"Ya wants to go after'em, Pervis?"

"Nah. Give'm a while. I likes a good hunt."

-o-o-o-

Emily staggered through the dark forest. Her leg was throbbing, but as she had stopped a bit earlier to dress the wound slightly with what was left of her torn shirt, the blood flow had stopped and luckily the knife seemed to have missed any tendants or nerves. All she could feel now was a dull thumping, and she was able to walk reasonably well.

Looking up at the moon, she saw it nearing the horizon.

_It's the middle of June, and I'm in Alabama. When the moon sets __the time should be somewhere between three and five in the morning. The sun will rise around 5.30AM, give or take half an hour._

Holding a hand against the wound on her bare waist, Emily pushed aside branches and shrubs to make her way through the thick foliage. Having had her undergarment destroyed by the prying hands manhandling her earlier, she bound the shirt around her chest. The torn piece of clothing she had tied together around her ribcage gave her little shelter against the mosquitoes who were happy to chow down on the damp flesh the green fabric was supposed to protect.

Supporting herself against trees and rocks she passed by, the agonized woman struggled to stay on her feet on the uneven ground below her. The moon was still clearly visible but the darkness was nevertheless lying thick over the forest.

After about half an hour Emily stopped and leaned against a tall pine.

_I should have been there by now. If I'm even walking the right way. We set camp by the river. If I find the river__, I can find the camp. I have to get help._

She braced herself and continued her hard trudge through the lush forest ahead. The pain in her thigh was almost gone, causing the upper half of the leg to go numb. She mused over whether that was a good or a bad sign, but anything that helped her get through the woods easier at this time was very welcome.

Suddenly, she stopped short, sharpening her ears.

_Water._

Emily could hear the distinct sound of water flowing very close by. It was getting brighter outside and, after throwing her gaze around for a moment or two, she spotted the river a few hundred feet away. A wave of relief came over her as she tried her best to hurry towards the peacefully streaming river.

Eventually reaching it, she fell to her knees with a groan and doused her head in the cool, clear water. The feeling was exhilarating and her mind instantly became less of a blur. Knowing she needed to get back to her camp as fast as possible to find the map and compass and find her way to the rendezvous point, she rose from her place on the stony bank.

Brad was badly hurt back under the fallen tree, and there was no way Emily could take him with her. She was strong, but not strong enough to drag an unconscious, injured man through the woods for eight miles. She needed to get back and give a rescue crew directions to where he was. At this point, she knew exactly where she was coming from. Once she got her hands on the map and compass, she could place him and give the crew a narrow vicinity in which he was.

A part of Emily would rather leave that creep in the forest, but the reasonable part of her, the part in which humanity lived, told her that there was no way she could do that. No matter what he had done, he needed medical attention. And after that a visit from the local police department and a very public prosecution for attempted rape and battery.

For now, she pushed that aside. She needed to find the camp.

Keeping close to the river, Emily held her waist as she half walked; half stumbled along the jagged rocks covering the bank. Fatigue was getting to her. The sleepless night, the rush of adrenaline and the blood loss was beginning to take its toll on her, but determined to reach the camp, she clutched her waist as she bit the inside of her cheek and continued.

That's when she finally saw it. The two tents. The burned out fire. The backpacks. She had made it back to camp.

The darkness had nearly gone as she arrived at the camp site, and somewhere behind the large mountain many miles away, the sun was beginning to shoot its first rays over the Alabama woods. There was still an eerie glow over the forest as dawn hadn't really begun.

Almost running towards the makeshift camp site, Emily threw herself on the ground in front of the fireplace, grabbing the green backpack which had been left outside as the struggle ensued. With shaking hands she pulled out a new bottle of water and greedily sucked down every last drop. Dropping the bottle on the ground beside her, she continued to rummage through the backpack, looking for the map and the compass. And maybe something to eat.

The blow to the back of her head took her completely by surprise. One second she was on her knees searching for means to escape the forest, the next second she lay face down on the morning damp ground. She hit the forest floor with a crackle and an 'umpf' as her body went limp. Blood began trickling over her temple down onto the ground below.

A hand reached out, pushing strands of dirty hair out of her bloodied face.

-o-o-o-

"Hotch...?"

Hotch had been moving through the thick Alabama forest for a long time before he heard the low, coarse voice of his younger colleague flung over his shoulder.

"Morgan!"

Stopping at a thick pine, the superior eased his co-worker down off his shoulder and onto the ground. Cradling Morgan's still slightly wobbly head Hotch carefully let him lean against the massive tree.

"How are you holding up?"

"Wha...? Where are we?" Confused, the younger agent looked around. He had been out for several hours while his colleague had carried him through the woods. The last thing he remembered was one of the brothers firing a round of .30 caliber rounds into his leg, and then everything was a blank.

Surprisingly enough, Morgan felt no pain in his leg. As a matter of fact, he didn't feel his leg at all. He glanced down at his leg, fearing what would greet him. What he saw was nothing less than a disaster.

His leg looked strange, even though it had been wrapped in some kind of fabric. Crooked, somehow. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage and his calf had been tied off with a piece of cloth about an inch wide.

With a grimace Morgan looked up at his superior and only now noticed that he was shirtless and dripping with sweat. His face was bright red, and he panted heavily.

"What happened?"

"You've been out for a while." Hotch checked the bandage on his subordinate's leg. "It's been a few hours since we left the cabin."

"How...?"

"They went to sleep. It took a while, but I carried you out. And I got my hands on this." The older agent took the rifle off his shoulder and placed it on the ground beside them. "I stopped a while back to tie off your leg. I didn't have much else but my shirt."

"How does it look? I remember...I remember being shot..."

Hotch had a concerned look on his face as he wiped bullets of sweat off his brow. "It doesn't look good."

Morgan winced. He knew that if he didn't get to a hospital soon he was at risk of losing his leg, and had Reid been there he would most likely tell him exactly what percentage the risk was at. The hygiene in the remote cabin they'd been held in certainly wasn't top notch, and God knew what had gotten caught in that bear trap before him.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. The map and compass are still in the cabin. I'm going by the sun. It's rising."

Morgan nodded slowly. "How far have we gotten?"

Hotch lay down on the ground beside his subordinate, trying to catch his breath and giving his insanely sore shoulders and back a rest. "I'd say about five or six miles."

"You hauled me on your back for six miles?!"

"I had to."

"Hotch, man..."

"You don't have to, Morgan."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, simply collecting their thoughts. Hotch sat up and brushed some leaves off his trousers. "We have to continue. Can you walk if I support you?"

"I think so."

After a struggle to rise with about as many profanities escaping Morgan's lips as can be found in the average South Park episode, the two men were finally on the path through the thick woods again.

Morgan leaned heavily on the very tired Hotch as he limped along the jagged trail. Every step was a bolt of pain shooting through his leg, groin and stomach, but all he did was to choke down growls and curses as he bit his lip and gritted his teeth.

Hotch held his arm around his subordinate's muscular torso. No matter how fit Morgan was, this was a situation he wouldn't be able to get through without sheer willpower. However, the superior mused, had it been a man less in shape than his colleague would probably not have made it this long.

Stumbling along the uneven path, the men strained every muscle in their bodies as they slowly moved closer and closer to the rendezvous point at the end of the forest.

-o-o-o-

"How's 'bout now then, Pervis?"

"Nah. Let'em sweat. Easy prey."

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Babuuummm!! Another cliffhanger, ladies and possibly gentlemen! And for those of you who will now write me reviews about "why is there no Reid and Rossi in this ep?", well I'll tell you - they're sleeping. And that's really not much fun to write. And sleeping is ALL they're doing, for God's sake!**

**Thanks for reading and more will be coming soon, as my school is over and I have some time after work!**

**/AA**


	13. Easy Prey

**A/N: Here we go, ladies and gentlemen! Another chap coming to you smoking fresh from my eager fingers! Why does everything sound nasty when coming from me..? Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

The hand pushing the brown strands of bloodied bangs out of Emily's face froze the instant her features were uncovered.

"Emily!?"

Rossi dropped the pan he held in his hand; the pan he had used to incapacitate the unknown intruder, who turned out to be a member of his own team.

Rolling the unconscious woman over onto her back, the older agent cradled her head, keeping it from further damage. Looking at her mauled body, he gaped in shock.

"What the hell...? Reid, get out here!"

The young agent poked his head out through the opening in the partially flaccid tent, having been told to stay put by his older colleague as they woke to the sound of someone rummaging through their belongings. He now saw his unconscious team member lying on the ground in front of the kneeling senior agent, and sprung to his feet.

"Emily!"

"Get the first aid kit from my backpack, and some more water! We have to get those wounds clean." Rossi gently clapped Emily's rosy cheeks, trying to bring her back to the world.

Kneeling beside the two agents, Reid handed the first aid kit to his superior. "What in the world happened to her? And where is her partner?"

"Hopefully we'll find out when she wakes up. Emily? Can you hear me? Emily?" The older agent shook the woman gently, eliciting a soft moan and a brief fluttering of her eyes.

"Come on, Emily. Come back to us." Reid took the awakening woman's hand in his, squeezing it slightly.

As Emily finally opened her eyes, her vision was blurred at first, and for a moment she was convinced she was still in the woods, caught under Brad's prying hands. But as she regained her full sight capacity and saw Rossi's face, it was all she could do not to burst into tears of relief.

"Dave...oh God!" Rising on her elbow, she tore her hand from Reid, whom she hadn't yet noticed, and threw it around the older agent's neck, holding it in a tight, desperate embrace.

Caught off guard with the sudden attack, Rossi lost his balance momentarily and swayed as Emily hung around his neck. Placing one hand on the ground and one hand around the woman holding him, he regained his balance.

"Hey, hey... It's okay. What happened to you? Where's your partner?"

Emily only held on tightly to the sturdy frame in her embrace for a few more moments, the released her superior, sitting up on the jagged ground. She winced from the pain in her leg and her stomach, but clenched her teeth and looked at the agents beside her.

"Reid. Man, is it good to see you."

"Well, uh, I wish I could say the same. You look terrible. What happened?"

Emily sighed deeply, flinching at the sudden bolt of pain shooting through her midsection. "Aaah... I had some trouble with my hiking partner."

"Did you have an accident?" Reid asked cluelessly as he applied gauze to the injured woman's head.

A look. "Yes Reid, we got hit by a car."

"Really?"

Emily even managed to smile at her younger colleague's incredibly slow sense of thought. Keeping her eyes on the boy nursing her head, she waited for the coin to drop. Eventually it did.

"Oh..."

"Brad and I...we had a little...difference of opinion."

"About what?" Rossi asked, but had a feeling he already knew the answer, judging from the woman's torn clothing and defense wounds on her body.

"The bastard attacked me and tried to rape me." Even though Emily tried to keep her voice steady, both agents nursing her could clearly hear the trembling that lingered in her words.

"The son of a bitch", Rossi growled as he washed the wound in Emily's stomach with the water in one of the bottles.

Grimacing from the pain, the woman drew a few sharp breaths before continuing her story. "I got hold of a knife and..."

Reid looked up from binding the injured leg with more gauze. "Is he...?"

"I don't know. I had to leave him there. He was unconscious and I couldn't carry him."

"Understandable." Rossi finished washing the wound and proceeded to wrap her waist with clean gauze instead of the torn and blood-drenched shirt. "Do you remember where you left him?"

"Yes. About a mile back in that direction." She indicated with her index finger behind the camp.

"We have to go get him."

Emily nodded. Of course she wasn't too happy having to see that man ever again, and he probably deserved to be left to rot in the woods, but that wasn't the way she had been raised – and it wasn't the way she handled her problems. Nothing was left behind.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah. With some help." The woman took hold of her teammates' hands as they pulled her up to a standing position. A small yelp escaped her, but she tried to keep a straight face.

"I'll get the backpacks. We'll leave the tents here." Rossi lifted one of the heavy duty bags on his back and handed the other to Reid, who strenuously strapped it to his scrawny back. "Let's go."

The three agents began their trek back into the woods, two of them supporting the third.

Just as the bright rays of sun hit the forest, they were blocked by a massive cloud of pure black. The raindrops began to fall, slowly at first, then closer and closer until the slight drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour.

In the distance, thunder began to roll.

-o-o-o-

The pouring rain doused Hotch and Morgan as they struggled to trudge through the thick Alabama woods. Having no idea how far they were from the rendezvous point, but having a general idea of the direction, they had come to the conclusion that all they could to was to continue on until they hit some form of civilization.

The constant downpour made the already difficult trek even harder, softening the ground and turning it into a swampy mess that shifted beneath their feet.

Morgan growled with every step. Not only did he have to hop on one leg most of the time, but the foot he could put weight on without blinding pain shooting up through it kept slipping away from him. He could hear Hotch grunt every time his younger colleague lost his footing and leaned heavier on his shoulder.

This was pure hell for Morgan—hell covered in mud. He hated not being able to manage on his own. All his life he had been taking care of himself, but at this moment there was nothing he could do but lean on his superior and trust him with his health. Not that there was ever any doubt that he trusted Hotch with both life and limb, but right now Morgan clenched his teeth in a silent grimace and struggled to keep his good foot on the slippery ground.

The thunder had begun raging moments earlier and the forest had been engulfed in a thick darkness once again. The agents no longer had the means to go by the sun as a 'landmark', but having already mapped out an imagined route they could follow the solid landmarks they could make out in the distance.

Lightning cracked the dark sky and lit up the forest continuously and there was a constant rumble echoing through the woods.

Both men knew full well that the forest was no place to be during a raging thunderstorm, but they didn't have much of a choice at this point. Trying their very best to stay on their feet they continued their hike through the now drenched forest.

Suddenly Hotch froze, tightening his grip on the injured man on his arm.

"Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"Can you run?"

"What?"

Morgan frowned as he looked at his superior who was staring into the forest before them, sight locked on something in the near distance. Following his boss' eyes, he tried to spot what Hotch had seen.

When he did, he wished he hadn't.

As a bolt of lightning cracked the sky, the images of two men appeared clear as day about 300 feet away, between a couple of pines. Despite the distance, Morgan could clearly make out the satisfied smiles placed on the men's lips, and the rifles on their backs.

"Oh shit."

"Move!" Hotch turned swiftly to the right, dragging his limping colleague with him into the thick shrubberies of the forest. Morgan tried to keep up best he could, but felt that all he did was to slow the stronger man down.

"Hotch, let go! Let go!"

"No!" Hotch jerked at his junior team member, forcing him to practically run along side his superior.

The two men who had appeared from out of nowhere followed the agents, first slowly, then with greater speed. Howls and hoots of excitement echoed through the woods along with the ripping roar of the thunder.

The hunt was on.

-o-o-o-

"Over there!" Emily pointed towards the tipped over tree under which she had left Brad some time earlier. She had to yell for the men supporting her to hear, as the thunder relentlessly rolled over the mountains and forest, making it practically impossible to be heard without screaming their lungs out.

The rain poured down in ridiculous amounts; it was like someone had simply tipped a gigantic bucket over the thick Alabama woods, making it even more impenetrable than before. Slipping and sliding in the quick forming mud, the three agents struggled to reach the fourth that lay injured under the large tree.

Finally reaching the fallen pine, Rossi left the other agents and slid down the small slope to reach the unconscious man lying sprawled in the thick mud. As the older man reached Brad, he instantly had to grab the subdued man and yank him out of the rapidly rising puddle of water covering his head, to keep him from drowning.

Giving the younger agent a quick check, he turned to the others. "He's bleeding pretty badly!" he yelled over the roaring thunder. "I need something to wrap around his wound!"

Releasing Emily from his grip, Reid pulled off his backpack and searched it for the last roll of broad gauze. He tossed it to Rossi and watched as the older agent pulled it tightly around Brad's groinal injury over the army trousers.

"Brad! Brad!" Rossi tried to wake the injured agent from his unconsciousness, shaking him roughly and calling his name. There was no way they could lug this 200lb man through the remaining six miles of the hike, not with Emily injured as well.

Finally, Brad groaned and turned his head.

Emily shuddered. Having to meet this man's eyes wasn't on the top of her wish list. She was rather thankful that she had been able to incapacitate him as much as she did. That, and the fact that Rossi… and, well, Reid too...was there, made her feel safe. The only thing worrying her at this time was her own injuries and the fact that they were standing underneath gigantic pines which were very prone to lightning strikes.

"Aargh...what the hell...?" Brad tried to move his mangled body, and a bolt of sharp pain cut his groin. Covering his private area with both hands, he sputtered from the rain hitting his face. "Wha...?"

"You need to get up!" Rossi yelled through the downpour.

"Who the hell are you?!"

"I'm the guy who's fighting the urge to leave you here! Get up!"

Grabbing the groaning agent's arm, Rossi pulled him to his feet and forced him to stand, despite the searing pain in his crotch.

After making sure Emily was steady, Reid reached down into the pit under the fallen pine, taking hold of Brad's hands as Rossi shoved him up the slope. Growls of pain and strain emerged from the slightly incapacitated agent as he struggled to gain footing in the slippery mud hill.

Reaching the top, he leaned on the young agent by his side and raised his head to see where he was. Spotting Emily behind Reid, his face became as dark as the clouds above them.

"You!"

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, shove it, asshole!"

Muttering something incoherent, Brad groaned as Rossi had reached the top of the muddy slope and taken the injured agent off Reid's hands.

"You're walking with me! One word, and you walk by yourself! Capice?!"

Brad nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the drenched and bleeding female agent standing a few feet away. He was sharply turned by Rossi's firm hand on his shoulder, and ended up face to face with the older and slightly taller agent.

"And if I catch you looking at Emily _one more time_ I will personally make sure that the first person you meet when you leave the hospital won't be your lawyer, but a very large Italian wiseguy named Sonny!"

There was no mistaking the look in Rossi's eyes as he issued the very graphic threat to the staring agent. He meant business.

Brad let his eyes drop to the ground as he fought to keep from yelping with every step he took. Once faced with a sincere threat which involved breaking of bones and various other pieces of his body, he was no longer the tough guy. He was simply a coward who loved to show whatever little power he possessed by assaulting women.

Emily leaned on Reid as they trudged through the soaked forest, still being completely drenched in the torrential downpour. Casting a glance at Rossi, she met with his eyes and mouthed a silent 'thank you', knowing her voice wouldn't be heard over the thunder anyway.

Rossi answered by giving her a crooked smile, a nod and a wink.

They had six miles left until they reached the rendezvous point. It was 5:50 on a mid-July morning when the four agents continued on their hellish trek through the fierce rain of the Alabama woods.


	14. When the Storm Passes

**A/N: Oooookay, that was a long wait! I've been very deep down in the slash-gutter lately, but don't worry - ain't nothing of that here. 22 days without an update, wow. That's really bad. Bad AA! BAD AA!! -slaps self over fingers- Aaaanyway, let's get it on! Let's see how our heroes are doing in the Alabama woods! Beta read by the wonderful editor frog and approved by the lovely LT!**

-o-o-o-

Morgan held on to Hotch's shoulders and arm for dear life as they half-ran, half-stumbled along the partially trampled trail. Every step was a nightmare for the younger agent, with jolts of white pain shooting up his leg with every step, but he refused to stop. Setting his jaw firmly, he tried desperately to speed up. There wasn't a chance in hell that these insane men were going to have an easy hunt.

Hotch had lost feeling in his fingers a long time ago, tightly holding on to his subordinate's clothes and arms to make him stand up, walk, and now run. The cold water streamed down his brow and into his eyes, making it almost impossible to see anything at all in the already dusky forest.

The deafening roll of thunder almost covered the blast from the double-barreled shotgun firing some 100 feet behind them.

The bullet his the trunk of a tree only inches away from Hotch's head, sending bark and pieces of wood flying in every which direction, and forced the two agents to duck away from further bullets.

Morgan felt his foot slipping; and slipping far away.

"Hotch!"

But it was too late. The agents were involuntarily sent on a slippery slide down a hillside, crashing mercilessly into trees and stumps, rocks and shrubs.

The grip Hotch had on his younger colleague wasn't strong enough, and after a few bumps into trees and such, he felt the struggling body of the other agent slip away from him.

"No! Morgan!"

"Hotch!"

A mouthful of mud silenced the slipping agent, who felt as if his leg was going to fall off at any moment. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, but the pain was static. He crashed back first into a large aspen tree at the bottom of the hillside, letting a high cry of pain escape him in the process. Losing his breath, Morgan struggled to get up, but all his efforts were completely in vain. He couldn't rise without help, and there was none.

The rain poured down, nearly blinding him as he tried desperately to steady himself on the tree while fighting the agony to rise.

"Hotch!"

The older agent was nowhere to be seen. It was like the earth had opened up and swallowed him whole. Morgan looked around through the massive rain.

"Hotch!!"

Between the rolling thunder and the sound of his own heartbeats, Morgan heard an all too familiar sound only a few feet behind him. It was the unmistakable sound of a double gauge shotgun being cocked. His eyes went wide as he froze, still holding on to the tree.

"Hold it right there, boy."

Slumping back down onto the ground, Morgan turned his massacred body around to face the menace behind him. It was Cooter, standing only a few feet away, shotgun aimed straight at him.

The thunder was moving further away now and the roars became more and more distant. Morgan could practically hear his own panic scream inside him, but not a trace of it could be seen on the outside. He kept his eyes fixed on those staring back at him, refusing to back down, despite his incapacitated condition.

Cooter smiled a partially toothless smile.

"I's gots ya now."

Raising the shotgun to his shoulder, Cooter prepared to take the final shot at the already wounded agent lying before him.

There was nothing Morgan could do. He couldn't move from his place on the ground. Searching frantically on the ground around him with his hands, he tried to get a hold of a rock, or a stick – anything to throw at the deranged man pointing a lethal weapon at him. He found nothing. Looking back up at Cooter and the two barrels aimed straight into his face, he finally gave in. His body refused to cooperate, and knowing full well there was no point in trying to verbally reason with this insane man, he surrendered to what he knew was going to happen.

Closing his eyes, he drew a breath and tried to keep his happiest memory in mind as he prepared himself for the end.

A single shot echoed through the forest. Then there was nothing but silence, and the dull rumbling of the departing thunder.

-o-o-o-

Reid sharply turned his head as they all heard the very distinct sound of a weapon firing nearby.

"What was that?"

Rossi frowned.

"Sounded like a rifle." He looked very confounded. "But the hunting season isn't open until early September."

"Maybe they can help us." Prentiss began feeling slightly lightheaded, and her stomach throbbed. Every step was pure agony as she clung to Reid like a bad cold. But refusing to show her suffering to the men around her, she blinked the tears away and was thankful for the rain, which was beginning to slow.

"Maybe. Reid, do you have the map?" Rossi sat Brad down on a rock as he reached into the younger agent's back pack, pulling out the map. Eyeing it, he ran his dirty fingers through the tousled curls that were once a decent haircut. "We're here." He pointed to a location on the map.

"And here's the rendezvous point." Reid pointed to a location about an inch away from the place where Rossi had placed his finger.

Rossi nodded, and smiled to himself. Despite the horror of the whole situation, the young man before him had learned how to read a map – something he couldn't before the hike begun. A small feeling of pride rose inside the older agent as he looked at his junior colleague.

"That's right. And with the speed we're holding right now, we should reach it within the next four hours."

"Should we just ignore the hunters?"

"I think it's for the best. There's no big game hunt right now, so we're in no danger of being mistaken for any animal they may be hunting."

"Like it would matter if we got mistaken for deer..." Brad mumbled, sitting on the rock, holding his groin. "Like this could get any worse."

"Believe me", Rossi growled as he turned towards the whining man. "This could easily get a lot worse for you, just give me a reason. And didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Brad let his eyes return to the ground as Rossi forcefully pulled him from his sitting place and continued to drag him along, followed by Prentiss, leaning heavily on Reid, clutching her stomach.

-o-o-o-

Morgan heard the shot ring through the forest.

But then there was nothing. No pain. No impact. Nothing.

Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Cooter sprawled over the forest floor, his head covered in blood. The rifle lay unfired in the grass beside him, one of his hands still on the butt.

As Morgan could finally draw a breath, he saw Hotch coming at him through the bushes, face covered in mud, holding a smoking rifle in his hand.

"Morgan! Are you okay?!"

Shaking off the shock, Morgan nodded and looked at Cooter once again. It had been a clean headshot. Half his skull had been blown out over the tree, pieces of grey matter still clung to the branches. Feeling Hotch's hands on him, he instinctively grabbed onto them and pulled himself up to a standing position. His injured leg had gone completely numb and simply hung from his body like a loose piece of flesh. There was no way he could walk on his own, and absolutely no way he could run.

"We have to go. The other one must have heard the shot, he'll be coming soon."

Morgan nodded and winced. "My leg..."

"Lean on me. We have to go. Now." Grabbing the rifle from Cooter's dead hand, Hotch discarded the recently fired one he already held. The one bullet it carried had come to good use. Hanging it over his back, Hotch took Morgan's arm and pulled it over his shoulders, taking almost all weight off his colleague's feet. All Morgan had to do was bend his knee as Hotch did the lifting, and they were on their way, aiming for the next landmark on their invisible route.

The rain had ceased, but the ground was still slippery and treacherous and the men had to walk with caution not to loose their footing.

The thunder was disappearing in the distance, and the sky was finally cracking up and began to let rays of sun slip through the thick blanket of dusky gray covering the forest.

-o-o-o-

"Wait...wait..."

Prentiss clutched her stomach as she could no longer keep from letting her face contort in agonizing grimaces of pain. Her abdomen was shooting fire into the rest of her body. Hanging onto Reid for dear life, she bent over and threw up on the already soggy forest floor.

Reid held the woman by the shoulders and arms as she heaved onto the ground.

"Rossi!"

The other two men had made it a bit further than their younger colleagues and Rossi turned, hearing his name called.

"Wait! Emily isn't feeling well!"

"I'm okay..." Emily mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I just needed to...ow..." Holding her stomach tightly, she doubled over, falling to her knees. She felt like she was going to explode from the inside.

"Rossi!" Reid cried out as he tried to steady the woman in his arms, but just ended up loosing his own balance and falling along with her.

Dropping Brad onto the ground with a groan, Rossi ran back to his colleagues, and took Emily's shoulders as he kneeled before her. "Emily?"

"I'm fine...I'm just...just..." Shaking her head, she still tried to give the impression that everything was fine, that it was simply a cramp. But she knew she couldn't fool Rossi. "My stomach. It hurts so bad..."

Rossi lifted the gauze wrapped around her waist to examine the wound. There was no blood seeping through the cloth, but as he felt the abdomen, it was rigid. He knew what that meant. She was bleeding internally. If they didn't get her to a hospital soon...

Emily looked at her senior colleague. She wasn't stupid. She knew just as well as he did what was going on. The stick which had been jammed into her stomach had punctured something or torn off a vein, and now she was bleeding out from the inside.

"Can you walk?"

Emily nodded. "I have to."

Reluctantly, Rossi nodded as well, and helped Emily to her feet and let Reid put his arm around her for support. He would much rather have been supporting the woman and keep a steady eye on her condition, but there was no way Reid could support Brad.

Rising with the two other agents, Rossi made sure Reid had a good grip on the injured woman before returning to the man sitting grunting on the ground.

But before he could reach the wounded man, there was a huge noise in the bushes about 20 feet away. Rossi froze.

"Nobody move!" he hissed. Knowing his forest fauna, the older agent recognized the sound to be well loud enough to be a bear approaching. And if it was, they would be in trouble.

The four agents stared at the bushes, not being able to do anything more than wait for whatever it was to appear.

But none of them could have predicted what came through the leaves.

"What the hell...?"

**A/N 2: Yeah, what came out of the bushes!? We're closing in on the end now, people!! But the end for WHO? -evil grin-**


	15. With One Look

**A/N: See? No 22 day waiting period this time! Yay for me! Now... Be warned. Bad things will happen here.**

**HA!**

**Beta read by editor frog!**

-o-o-o-

"Dave!"

The relief in Hotch's voice was painfully obvious as he stumbled through the bushes, Morgan tight on his side. The sight of his colleagues made his heart skip a beat with both shock and pure happiness, and there was even a hint of a smile crossing his flushed face. The two fleeing men staggered out of the shrubs towards their teammates.

"Hotch!? Morgan!? Jesus Christ, what happened to you?" Rossi ran over to his fatigued colleagues, aiding Hotch in his struggle to keep Morgan upright.

"Long…long story…" Hotch panted. "It's good to see you, Dave."

"I wish I could say the same. You two look like shit!"

Setting Morgan down on the ground next to a tree, Hotch put his hands on Rossi's shoulders to steady himself. "Dave. Oh, God, Dave." He wanted to tell the entire story, but couldn't make out a single coherent word. He suddenly felt the fatigue and dehydration kick in with awesome force. So far he had been running on pure fumes, determination, and self perseverance, but now…

"Hotch, sit. Sit down." Rossi noticed the sway in his colleague's posture as well as the fierce grip around his shoulders. He tried to get Hotch to sit down on the ground, but the superior protested.

"No. No, we have to…have to go…" But his legs weren't strong enough to hold him upright any longer, and he collapsed onto the ground, his head spinning from the strain and dehydration.

Holding on to Hotch's shoulders and head, Rossi managed to let his colleague land on the ground as gently as possible. "Reid! Get me some water!"

Setting Emily down gently on a tree stump, the young agent forced his back pack off and dug around until he found an unopened bottle of water and threw it to his superior.

Rossi lifted his partially unconscious colleague's head and put the bottle to his lips. "Drink, Hotch."

Most of the water ended up on the ground as the exhausted man tried to gulp it down, but some actually went into his mouth. A somewhat content sigh escaped him as the bottle was removed.

The older agent handed the bottle to Reid, who crouched beside Morgan and gave him the rest of the water.

"Morgan, what happened?" Reid asked, concern in his voice.

"We need to go", was Morgan's instant reply. The look in his eyes made both Rossi and Emily frown. It almost resembled…_fear_?

"Whoa, let's just hold it a minute." Rossi held his hands up. "What the hell is going on? What happened to your leg, and what are you running from?"

Morgan shook his head. "There's no time, we have to go!"

"Morgan, Hotch is passed out, your leg looks like shit, Emily's badly injured, and flap jack over there is bleeding all over his pants. We can't go anywhere." As soon as Rossi had uttered the words, he realized the severity of the situation. Moments ago, he had been worried about not reaching the rendezvous point in time. Now he was certain they wouldn't reach it at all. And the condition his coworkers were in was anything but "fine."

"He's coming!" There was actually a hint of panic in Morgan's voice as he reached out for Reid's shirt. "Reid, we have to go – _now_."

"Morgan…"

"They held us captive in the cabin, but Hotch got us out. He killed one, but the other one is coming!"

Morgan's barely coherent story made no sense to the other agents, but they understood as much as that whoever was chasing their teammates were dangerous; dangerous enough to send Morgan into fits of fear--and fact alone that said a lot.

"Okay, okay. Calm down." Reid tried to make Morgan relax, but to no avail.

"No, don't you get it?! He's gonna kill us! We're sitting ducks here!" The grip on Reid's shirt hardened.

"Morgan!"

Rossi's voice echoed between the trees, and the younger agent immediately turned towards him, desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to calm down. If you panic, our chances of getting out of here will only decrease."

Morgan knew Rossi was right, but at the same time thought that if the older man had seen what he had seen in the cabin, he wouldn't be just calmly standing there. Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and set his jaw. Looking up at his superior, he once again tried to explain what was going on.

"We were heading east. I stepped in a bear trap and hurt my leg. We were held at gunpoint by some crazy redneck and his brother all night until Hotch got us out somehow. They shot my leg up!" Morgan paused to breathe. "We've been running since we got out, and just now the rednecks caught up with us. Hotch killed one, but the other one…he's still coming."

Everyone was silent after Morgan had finished his short recap of the night's events. They simply stared at their severely injured colleague, trying to take in the information.

"Jesus…" Rossi couldn't get another word out.

"We have to go!" Morgan stressed the importance of their departure.

"But…how?" Reid shook his head. "Rossi and I are the only ones who are capable to walk, and we can't support all of you."

"Find me a branch or a stick or a goddamn _anything_!" Morgan reached up towards the tree to pull himself up. "I'll walk on my own!"

Reid tried to steady his wobbling and groaning colleague as he strenuously tried to rise from the soggy ground. But there was not one ounce of strength left in the formerly strong agent, and he slumped back onto the forest floor.

"Goddamnit!!"

The frustration in Morgan's voice was painfully clear, and he slammed his fist down onto the hardening mud.

"Calm down, Morgan. We'll find a way." Rossi felt Hotch's cold sweaty brow and rose. "I'll go to the rendezvous point and get help. The rest of you stay here."

"No!" Morgan shook his head. "No, we have to go, all of us! He's insane!"

"It's only about three hours away. I can make it in two. And the rescue team will be here much faster."

"Rossi, there's no time! We have to…!" He couldn't finish his sentence before a dark, menacing voice came from the same shrubs Morgan and Hotch had come through moments earlier.

"Well, well, well."

All the agents turned sharply towards the voice, and what they saw sent shivers down their spines. Morgan recognized the man instantly.

Pervis.

He was holding a rifle waist high and aimed straight at the agents. The look in his eyes was all but reassuring.

"Ya little basterds. Whaddya do with Cooter?!" He was staring straight at Morgan, his brow in deep, hairy furrows.

"Pervis." It was all Morgan could say.

"Ain't lookin' too tough now, are ya, boy? I shoulda killed ya when I had the chance!"

Reid simply gaped at the man approaching them, aiming a presumably loaded weapon straight at them. The man was the size of a good size refridgerator, and even if the young agent could jump him, he was convinced he'd be swatted away like a mosquito.

Her stomach searching for a more sensible host and trying to escape her body, there was nothing Emily could do but watch the display before her. Her eyes locked onto the bear-like man moving in on her male colleagues and followed his every move.

Brad cowered in his corner of the clearing, trying to make himself as small as possible. He wasn't going to let these freaks get him killed.

Aiming the rifle at the subdued agent leaning against a tree, Pervis smiled a partially toothless smile. "These friends o' yours? They looks like city folks to me."

Cocking the rifle.

"Ain't gonna help ya now havin' all them people round ya, boy. Now where's Cooter!?"

"He's dead", Rossi replied from the sideline, taking a step forward. He needed to intersect this obviously deranged man before he reached Morgan.

Pervis turned sharply towards the older man. "Whaddya say!?"

"He's lying somewhere in the woods, dead as a damn doornail."

Reid stared at his older colleague in disbelief.

_Rossi, what are you doing!? Don't piss off the psycho holding a rifle!_

"Ya shut yer mouth!" Pervis turned the rifle away from Morgan and aimed it at Rossi.

The barely noticable glance Rossi threw at his younger colleague was crystal clear to the junior agent. Everything the older agent did was on purpose, and the short but intense look he cast at Reid said it all. A small, inconspicuous tip of the head confirmed the plan.

_Get the rifle. I'll keep him occupied. Get the rifle._

"Look, I don't know what happened. I have no idea." Rossi suddenly switched intonation and let his voice reach a higher note. "Just put that thing away and we can talk about whatever is going on."

Another quick glance was thrown, this time towards Emily. Rossi ever so slightly frowned at her before returning his eyes to the crazed redneck.

_Stay put._

Emily understood what Rossi was trying to do. She noticed the very small steps her superior were taking towards the man with the rifle. She noticed how his eyes never left those of the deranged man, except for the extremely subtle signals he was sending to his team; too subtle for Pervis to pick up on. She knew enough about methods of distraction to know that confusion was one of the best ways to throw a man off his target.

Emily looked over to Reid. She saw the young agent carefully move towards their unconscious superior, and knew what Rossi's plan was coming to.

_Get the rifle. Rossi will keep him occupied. Get the rifle._

She steadied her feet and prepared herself for what might be coming. Biting down on the inside of her chin, she pushed the pain in her stomach away and focused hard on the men 25 feet away from her.

"I ain't gonna do no talkin'!"

Slowly closing in on the angry man, Rossi held his hands up in the air. "Okay, I'll do the talking then." Locking his eyes onto those of the man, his jaw was clenched and expression completely stoic. "Who are you?"

"None o' yer damn beeswax!"

As soon as he was certain he was no longer in the insane man's line of sight, he carefully rose. There was no way he could pounce the man, but he had to reach the rifle still hanging over Hotch's shoulder where he lay passed out on the ground. Moving slowly, he tried not to call attention to himself. He was only ten feet away from the man with the rifle, Rossi about 30. Hotch lay behind the man, Morgan sat staring against a tree between Rossi and the psycho.

It was a complete standoff.

"Okay, okay", Rossi continued as he slowly closed in on Pervis. "Just stay calm. I just wanna talk. Why are you after my agent?"

"Agent? What dang agent?" Pervis looked very confused and furrowed his brow. "That boy over there?" Nodding towards Morgan.

Reid slowly moved towards Hotch's limp body and began to crouch down next to him, reaching for the rifle on his back.

The twig snapping under his foot gave him away in a heartbeat.

Pervis spun around, now pointing the rifle at the young agent. "Whaddya doin'?! Get tha hell away from there!"

Reid reached for the sky as he got back up. "Okay, okay, okay. I'm backing off."

"Get tha hell over there!" Pervis indicated with his head that Reid was to move over to where Rossi was, and the young man began moving, still holding his hands up.

But as Pervis turned the rifle away from him, Rossi had picked up his pace and was now speeding towards the insane man with the weapon.

Hearing the quickening steps closing in on him, Pervis spun back around, raising the double barreled Winchester to his chest.

"No!!" Reid screamed, rushing towards his superior.

The same second the Winchester fired its round at the agent rushing towards him, the young man threw himself in front of his colleague, knocking him to the ground. The men fell hard to the forest floor, and remained still, sprawled over the grass and mud.

Emily screamed.

Blood began to spread over the soggy soil.

Pervis turned slowly towards the shocked woman, who had thrown her hands over her mouth.

"Shut up!"

"You son of a bitch!"

Morgan tried to rise, but failed once again and now fell to the ground with a grunt. When he looked up from having his face mashed into the mud, he came face to face with something he was already sick of seeing.

The inside of a double barreled Winchester, cocked and lethal.

"I's gots me another round loaded an' ready, boy. An' this time...I ain't missin'."

One shot.

One scream.

Then silence.

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Bum bum bum... Yeah.**


	16. Last Man Standing

**A/N: Bu bu buum! Now. Let's see who bit the dust. Beta read by the lovely editor frog. Moah.**

-o-o-o-

The rattling groan escaping the man with the rifle as he fell to his knees resembled more "dying animal" than "human." Blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth as the Winchester slipped from his fingers and hit the forest floor with a muffled thud. The bloodshot eyes stared straight into nothing as the heavy body slumped over onto the soft soil and remained still.

All that could be heard were the rapid breaths of the only female agent in the group. She hadn't been able to repress the scream escaping her as the rifle fired. Her eyes had been so focused on the rifle pointed at Morgan; she was completely oblivious as to what was going on in the background. Now, as she turned her head towards the source of the noise, she realized what had happened.

It had all been over in less than 30 seconds--from the time Reid began moving towards the rifle to when Pervis hit the ground.

Hotch sat on the ground, rifle in his shaking hands. Bullets of sweat ran down his temples as he struggled to keep upright. A thin trail of smoke emerged from the twin barrels as they gradually sank down to meet the soil as Hotch's grip weakened.

"Hotch! Oh, man..." Morgan drew a deep breath where he lay on the ground. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his arm and tried to steady his racing heart.

"Rossi! Reid!" Ignoring the stabbing pain in her stomach, Emily pulled herself up to her feet and shakily stumbled over to the two agents who still lay on the ground. Reid lay partially on top of Rossi, both men lay face down.

Falling to her knees beside her colleagues, she grabbed the back of Reid's shirt, yanking him up to roll over onto his back.

Blood covered the young agent's face and hair and his body was close to limp under Emily's hands. But he moved. He blinked. And he moaned.

"Emily...?"

"Reid, oh God..." Emily wiped some blood out of Reid's face and quickly scanned the lanky form for a gun shot wound, but saw nothing. The blood covering his face originated from a gash in the forehead, probably caused by the impact when they hit the ground. Emily could breathe again. But the relief was only temporary.

A few seconds passed before Reid was reconnected with his brain and turned his aching head sharply towards the older agent still lying motionless on the ground beside him.

"Rossi?"

He placed a trembling hand on his superior's shoulder and shook him. No response. Grabbing onto Rossi's arm, and with a little help from Emily, he managed to turn the older man over. The sight that met them was horrific.

Half of Rossi's face was covered in blood and torn to shreds by a multitude of small, crater-like holes. Emily gasped at the sight of the massacred features of their superior.

"Oh, God."

Reid quickly placed his hand on Rossi's neck and felt for a pulse. Finding it, strong and pumping, he could let out the breath he had been holding since he first called Rossi's name.

"He's alive."

The rifle had been loaded with buck shots; small lead pellets which exploded into a rain of lethal metal when fired. Feeling his own face, Reid realized he had also been hit, but not nearly as bad as Rossi. A few stray pellets here and there; over the head and shoulder where he had pushed his superior onto the ground.

"Rossi? Rossi, can you hear me?" Reid shook the limp man, careful not to disturb his head.

A low moan was heard as the older man turned his head and winced visibly. "Ooaah...Shit!"

The sound of the very acceptable curse escaping Rossi's lips was more reassuring than anything. He was returning to the real word.

"Don't move, you've been hit by buck shot." Emily placed a hand on Rossi's chest as he tried to sit up.

"That man..."

"He's dead. Hotch shot him." Reid looked over towards his other superior and saw that he had slumped back onto the ground, but was still awake and looking at them. He nodded slightly to assure his subordinates that he was okay, at least as okay as he could be considering the situation.

"My head..." Rossi lifted his hand and placed it over his face, carefully touching the exposed flesh. He was partially shocked and partially disgusted by the feel of mashed skin and blood under his fingers. As his fingers reached his eye, they froze. All that remained of his right eye was a slimy mess of blood and a completely massacred eyeball.

Rossi's stomach churned.

"My...eye..."

Emily saw what Rossi was feeling beneath his fingers and quickly took his hand. "Don't. You're gonna be fine."

Rossi groaned as Reid helped him to sit up against a tree. Finding a spare shirt in his backpack, he constructed a makeshift bandage to cover the injured part of his superior's face.

While Reid was busy tending to Rossi's wounds, Emily limped over to Morgan. "You okay?"

"Yeah. How is he?"

"Not good. He's gonna lose his eye."

"Jesus..."

"I'm gonna go check on Hotch, you good?"

"Yeah. Go."

Emily rose, but failed to stay on her feet for even a split second and she sat down with a groan. She had completely drained whatever small amount of energy she had left, and every move she made caused her stomach to twist in brutal agony.

"Emily!" Morgan reached out for his female colleague and touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"No..." she whispered, as she finally collapsed. Her body gave up its struggle to function properly, and Emily's desperate attempts to stay conscious failed as she reluctantly let herself slowly slump to the ground and slip into obliviance.

"Reid!" Morgan called, still having his hand on Emily's now lifeless frame.

The young man turned away from his superior and saw the collapsed agent on the ground next to Morgan. Rising swiftly, he rushed over to kneel beside her.

"Is she okay?" Morgan asked worryingly.

"No." Reid felt her wrist for a pulse. "She's got internal injuries and is bleeding out."

"Jesus..."

Reid sighed resignedly and covered his face with his hands. The wound on his forehead had stopped bleeding and was slowly crusting. "Why is this happening...?"

Looking up and around at his team, the young agent felt a dreadful twist in his stomach. Emily was bleeding out. Rossi had been shot in the face. Morgan's leg was hanging by a tendon. Hotch lay on the ground, barely moving from the extreme strain his body had been under during the night. Brad was moping on a tree stump, still holding his crotch.

It suddenly dawned on Reid that he was the only one standing. He was the only one who was capable to move.

"What are we gonna do?" No answer. "Morgan? Morgan?"

Turning back to his older colleague after not receiving an answer, he saw to his horror that Morgan had closed his eyes and was no longer moving. His mouth was slightly ajar and a string of drool hung from the corner of it.

"Morgan?" Reid shook his coworker gently, but came to the frightening conclusion that he wasn't going to get a response. The loss of blood and exhaustion finally got to the strong agent. Not even Morgan could hold on forever, and Reid knew that.

He stood up and looked around. The members of his team lay scattered on the forest floor, all with various degrees of injuries, and none of them able to move even an inch. It was up to him.

He had to do something.

Walking over to the backpack he had discarded earlier, he dug out the map and compass along with a bottle of water. Sticking the bottle in the side pocket of his cargo pants, he went to kneel by Rossi's side.

"I'm going for help."

"Reid...you can't...you don't know..."

"I know what you've taught me. We're here, right?" He pointed to a spot on the map.

"Yes, but..."

"And the rendezvous point is here." Another location was indicated, a location they had already marked at the beginning of the trek, before everything turned into pure hell.

"Yes..."

"That's four and a half miles away. If I don't bring the backpack I can move faster, I can make it in three hours. Two and a half if I hurry."

Rossi looked at his young subordinate with his only functioning eye. Would he be able to trudge through the swampy forest alone? And on top of that, would he be able to find his way? But the look on Reid's face set the experienced woodsman's mind at ease, at least to the better part.

Reid looked confident and determined, and there was almost a calming look in his eyes. Something had changed in his body language. His back was straighter and his jaw was firmly set as he looked at his superior.

Rossi nodded tiredly.

"Alright."

"I can do it, Dave."

A small, proud smile rested on Rossi's lips.

"I know you can, kid."

Placing a hand on Rossi's shoulder, Reid gave it a quick squeeze and then stood up. As he took the rifle from the ground next to Pervis, he threw a glance over to Hotch. Nodding weakly, his superior approved to his mission.

Giving his team one last look, Reid began to walk away from the group and into the woods.

"_You_ getting help? Get real."

The voice coming from behind made Reid stop short and turn.

Brad sat on the tree stump, looking at the young agent tauntingly. Still holding a hand firmly pressed against his groin, he shook his head slowly.

"You're gonna fall down and get yourself and the rest of us killed."

Reid simply stared at the only agent in the group not belonging to his team, and felt anger rise inside him. Who was he to speak up at this point?

"Take me with you; you'll have a better chance of making it. I practically lived in the forest most of my life. I know how to..."

"Shut up!"

Reid took a few swift steps towards the mocking agent and stopped a couple of feet away from him. The look on the young man's face could have stopped any deranged lunatic; his eyes shot fire, and the fire was directed straight at Brad.

"Who the hell are you to talk!? If anyone deserves to be left here, it's _you_!"

Reid was furious, and wasn't about to lay off the pathetic excuse for a man before he had blown off the excessive amount of steam that had been building up throughout the hike.

"Look at you sitting there, looking all smug and self-righteous, when in fact you're about as much use to me as a shit flavored lollipop!"

Reid took hold of Brad's shirt and yanked him forward, placing him nose to nose with the young agent. A bead of sweat made its way down the older agent's brow.

"Now you are going to stay here, and shut up, and if anything happens to my team – and I mean _anything_ – you can be sure that the bears in these woods will be the _least_ of your problems if I ever find you!"

Reid let go of the sweat-drenched shirt and straightened his back. He looked down at the stunned agent and snorted.

"Asshole."

The young agent turned around and resumed his hike straight into the Alabama woods, leaving his incapacitated team behind.

He could make it.

He had to.

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Let's recap. We have three mortally injured agents, one useless unit chief, one shit flavored lollipop with a severed penis (possibly), one dead redneck and a young, clumsy agent treking the woods alone. What could possibly go wrong here?**

**I said it before, and I'll say it again: Moah.**


	17. Survival of the Fittest

**A/N: Back to the forest, people. Will our young genius make it? We'll see... Beta read by the lovely editor frog, approved by LT and tearbos!**

-o-o-o-

Hotch looked up at the clear blue sky. The sun had risen a long time ago and the storm was long gone. The crisp morning air filled his lungs with every breath and he greedily sucked in the fresh oxygen.

He had no way of telling how long ago it was Reid had left, but roughly estimated it to be about an hour. He could hear Rossi rustle every now and then, but apart from that and the occasional snapping twig further into the woods, all was silent. There hadn't been a sound from either Emily or Morgan, and Hotch's head was spinning with worry and fear.

Turning his dizzy head, he saw his agent lying motionless on the ground. Emily lay next to Morgan and Rossi's body was sprawled a good bit away from the two others.

As he was physically unhurt, basically, Hotch had an intense feeling of uselessness as he looked at his subordinates. He wanted to help, but for the last hour or so he hadn't been able to move his weakened body even the slightest. He opened his dry mouth, feeling his lips crack with each move.

"Dave?"

The words emerging from the fatigued superior were nothing more than a croak, but still reached the ears of the older agent.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

Rossi's face was throbbing, and every move he made felt like a red hot poker was digging into his already abused flesh.

"Apart from having half my face blown off...yeah."

His voice was partially garbled as he wasn't able to move his lips sufficiently, but managed to convey the message.

"You?"

"I'm...alive."

A grunt was all the answer he got from the older man as the forest once again fell silent, apart from the occasional rustle and snapping twig.

-o-o-o-

Reid half-ran, half-flew through the forest. Picking out distant landmarks as he went along, the young agent forced his way through thick shrubberies and swampy soil on his way to the rendezvous point. A quick glance at his wrist watch told him that he had been on the move for a good hour and a half.

Reid had never been a physically active or strong person, but there was something inside him that pushed him forward, and never let him slow down even the least. The aching muscles in his legs were completely ignored by his determination, and not even when his right leg cramped up from the strain did he stop for more than a minute for the pain to subside.

He had to keep moving. At this speed, he quickly calculated that he would be reaching the rendezvous point in approximately 35 minutes.

Cuts and bruises from the occasional stumble were stinging on his arms and legs, but deciding there were more important things to concentrate on, he pushed the pain away and continued.

_I have to keep going. I have to get help. I have to help them._

-o-o-o-

"Morgan?"

Suddenly, Hotch heard a rattling sound from where his agents lay. Morgan was moving his head and drew deep, shaking breaths. A coarse moan emerged from his throat.

Hotch lifted his head off the ground, causing it to spin violently, nauseating him in the process. He saw his subordinate's small attempts to move and hoped for the best; that he was coming to. But no such luck. Morgan slipped back into unconsciousness without a word spoken.

The frustrated superior let his head drop back onto the ground and released a deep sigh. He hated feeling this useless, it wasn't like him; it wasn't in his nature. His team needed him and he was just as much use as a common seagull at this point.

He wanted to scream from the frustration. He wanted to bang his head against a tree and hit something with his fists. Lying like a sack of potatoes on the ground was not something the ordinarily stoic superior was used to doing.

As he closed his eyes in pure anger and defeat, an array of hauntingly disturbing images flashed inside his head. The pain, the humiliation, the fear; it all came back to him in a split second, and he was thrown right back into the cabin.

The alarmed gasp escaping him as he shot his eyes open did not go unnoticed.

"Hotch? You okay?" Rossi's garbled voice came from over by the tree.

"Yeah."

But the gnawing feeling in Hotch's stomach wouldn't subside, and his memory refused to cooperate with him. He could only remember images and short moments from the cabin. And pain. A lot of pain.

Frowning, he returned his gaze to the sky.

_What the hell happen__ed to me in that goddamned cabin?_

-o-o-o-

He was close. The young agent could practically see the finish line at the rendezvous point. His legs shook violently with every step he took, and threatened to give in at any moment. Holding on to trunks and branches as he forced his way through the thick forest, he clenched his teeth and climbed rocks and jumped small creeks in his quest to reach the final goal of the horrid trek.

Feeling his head spinning violently, he stopped to pant and lean against a tree. Gulping down the last of the bottled water, he tossed the plastic container into the woods.

_Recycle this, forest from hell...!_

It was so close. So very close.

As he took the next step, his foot disappeared from beneath him. A startled yelp escaped the young agent, as he mercilessly plummeted a number of feet down onto the ground, sliding down a hidden slope. A tree and a couple of rocks halted his descent and he remained still on the jagged ground at the foot of the small hillside.

-o-o-o-

Time passed, insanely slow. Hotch counted his heartbeats, but after losing track after about 4,000, he gave up. Realizing he desperately needed water, he began to wonder how capable he was of moving.

Lifting one arm went well. Lifting both worked to his satisfaction. But as he began to roll over, the same spinning nausea rushed threw him, and he had to bite his lip not to vomit. He needed the water. Badly. And the fact that he was actually able to move sent hope to his heart.

Pathetically crawling towards the backpack next to Rossi, he dug his fingers into the ground for traction. He dragged his partially limp body all the way to his senior colleague, only to fall into a heap of panting, groaning unit chief upon arrival. Reaching for the bag, he tipped it over to find a bottle of water. Putting it to his mouth, it took him no more than 30 seconds to greedily gulp the sacred fluid down, not missing a drop.

He put the bottle down with a sigh, and let his head drop onto his arm as he breathed heavily.

Behind him came the sound of slowly clapping hands.

"Bra-vo, Mr. Unit Chief."

Hotch lifted his head and looked behind him. Brad sat on his tree stump, looking just as smug as ever.

"I thought you were done for. Way to prove me wrong."

"Rowlings, right?" Hotch mumbled tiredly.

"Yeah."

"Well", Hotch said clearing his throat. "I don't know how you people in counterintelligence usually address your superiors, but where I come from, that's not appropriate. Especially not in this situation." His throat burned with every word spoken, but he needed to shut the wayward agent up.

"Please. Out here there's no such thing as superiors or subordinates. Look around!" Brad let his arm sweep over the group of incapacitated people scattered over the ground. "Your team is dying and the only hope for rescue is a kid who's only seen the forest on a postcard _once_ in the sixth grade!"

"Did you forget that you're out here with us too? That you're also bleeding your ass off in the middle of the woods?"

"I'm in better shape than you."

Hotch raised himself up to a sitting position, feeling the water doing its job in his body.

"Are you? I'm not bleeding. I'm not incapacitated. And I have a rifle on my back." The look in Hotch's eyes as he refused to let Brad's gaze go could have stopped a herd of stampeding wilder beasts. "So I suggest that you keep your mouth shut until you're on the stand defending yourself for attempted rape."

"Hey, look – I didn't..."

"Did you not hear me just now? Did I _not_ just tell you to _shut up_?"

Hotch slowly took off the rifle and held it in his hands, pointed straight at the pitiful excuse for a government agent sitting 30 feet away, holding his groin.

"Hotchner, come on..."

"You attack a member of my team. You put on this holier-than-thou attitude and think you're better than all of us put together. And something in that severely warped mind of yours seems to think that you're still gonna have a job when we get back to civilization. Now, either you shut the hell up, or I will have no problem putting a bullet through your head and claiming the rednecks did it. Do we have an understanding, _Brad_?"

Not one word left Brad's lips as he nodded slowly and clammed up, looking blankly into the forest.

The little tirade had gotten Hotch's adrenaline pumping, and he finally felt able to stand up. Walking over to Emily on wobbly legs, he crouched next to her.

The pale face resting on the ground looked anything but healthy. She was drawing short, shallow breaths, and her chest was moving ever so slightly. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.

Hotch placed a hand on her shoulder, not to wake her, but just to make sure she was still alive. There was nothing he could do for her.

Looking over to Morgan, Hotch noticed him breathing calmly, but there was still no sign of him returning to consciousness.

Rossi sat leaned against the tree, looking at his team with the eye that wasn't bandaged. He was awake, but not at all capable to move anything more than a slight lifting of the arm to reassure his unit chief he was okay.

Hotch sat down on the ground between Morgan and Emily. Nothing he did would help any of his team members. All he could do was wait.

Suddenly, there was the sound of distant voices from deep in the forest. Hotch's head snapped up at the sudden noise, and he rose a bit too fast. His head spun as he leaned against the tree. He tried to concentrate on the voices. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Maybe the dehydration was worse than he thought, and he had begun to hallucinate.

But there it was again. Voices. Calling out.

"Agent Hotchner! Agent Rossi!"

_Reid made it!! They're here!_

"Over here! We're over here!" Hotch stumbled over the ground in direction of the voices, and suddenly – he could see them.

Coming through the woods were a dozen or so men clad in red rescue outfits, several of them carrying foldable stretchers and medical kits.

"We're over here!" Waving his hands in the air, the superior could see the men spotting him and hurrying their pace towards him. Turning back to his team, he ran over to Rossi. "Rossi, they're here! Help's here!"

A smile graced Rossi's lips as he nodded. "Reid..."

Hotch smiled just as brightly. "Yes."

The rescue team reached the small clearing were the team lay scattered on the forest floor, and spread out to tend to the wounded.

Brad immediately began babbling about how Hotch had threatened him with the rifle, but none of the rescuers listened to him.

"She hardly has a pulse, she's gotta go!" a rescuer called to what seemed to be their leader, who was crouching down next to Hotch.

He waved his approval, then turned to Hotch.

"Agent Hotchner? I'm Michael Hodges with the Wilderness Rescue Patrol. We're gonna get you home."

Hotch nodded exhaustedly. "Thank God."

"Reid... Did he make it back?" Rossi turned his massacred face to the rescue leader.

"Yes. He took a nasty spill and fractured his arm, but other than that he's fine. He reached your rendezvous point and told the officials what had happened. We were already at the scene, in case of emergency."

"Lucky for us."

"Yeah. Now, we can't move you guys through the woods, but there's a larger clearing about half a mile east of here. We can have you there in 20 minutes, and the choppers will pick you up and take you to the hospital."

Hotch nodded. Looking over to Brad, who was being strapped to a stretcher, he frowned. "Take him last."

The rescue leader blinked. "What? Why?"

"He tried to rape one of my agents."

Hodges' face changed, and he nodded. "Hey, get a stretcher over here! Agent Rossi needs to be moved right now." Turning to Hotch. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah."

The stretcher carrying Emily had already disappeared into the forest, and the people strapping Morgan down were also already on their way.

Hotch closed his eyes and sighed.

_It's over. It's finally over. _

As he ran his fingers through his dirty curls, a choking realization struck him. He hadn't considered the severity of the injuries his team had sustained, due to his poor state, but now it hit him like a ton of bricks.

It didn't matter if they were rescued.

His team was dying.

-o-o-o-

**A/N 2: Bum bum buuuum...!**


	18. What We Lost

**A/N: One who waits for something good, never waits too long!! Here it is, the (kinda) grand finale! Hope you enjoy it..!**

-o-o-o-

The silence was blissful. Just to lie there and not hurting anywhere, not hearing anything and not being able to move. It was wonderful. To simply exist in the void between being awake and being asleep. But now the emptiness began to fill with disturbing images.

Hotch had no idea how long he had been lying there, just existing. His mind had been working overtime in the silence, replaying the events of the cabin over and over and over. He could remember everything now, and every single detail made him physically nauseous where he lay, merely existing.

The pain, the humiliation, the abuse, the violation – all of it came back to him, and every time he thought the reel was played out, it started over again.

He remembered the flight through the forest, killing Cooter, and meeting the rest of the team. He remembered watching Pervis shoot Reid and Rossi and then point his weapon straight at Morgan. He remembered gathering up his last fraction of strength and firing the weapon at the insane redneck.

He remembered seeing Reid leave the clearing to get help. He remembered Brad's snarky remarks and his own graphic threats that shut him up.

He remembered the rescue.

But after that, all was blank.

He felt a tingling sensation in his arms and legs and suddenly realized that he was able to move again. Curling and uncurling his toes and fingers, he slowly opened his eyes. Despite knowing they were all rescued, he half expected to look up at the leafy branches of the high Alabama woods, but as he laid eyes on the peacefully beige hospital ceiling; he breathed a long sigh of relief.

Wearily looking around, he tried to focus enough to find the call button. His mind was still very much a haze, but one thought ran through it as clear as day.

_Where is my team?_

Finding the small red button hanging on a cord next to the bed, he pressed it with shaking fingers. Only moments later, a young nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Hotchner! How nice to see that you're awake! How do you feel?"

Hotch tried to speak, but there was nothing in his system that supported that decision. His throat felt insanely dry and his lips were beyond cracked.

The nurse walked over to the bed and reached for a glass of water with a straw. "Here. You need this." As Hotch drank from the straw while the nurse held the glass, she smiled. "You were severely dehydrated when you were found."

Hotch greedily gulped down every last drop of the divine liquid offered to him, and with a content sigh, he let his head lean back against the pillow. "Thank you", he croaked and cleared his throat, trying to reclaim his former composure as a superior agent. "My team..."

The nurse's face changed from happy to concerned and she frowned. "Oh." Letting her eyes dart from place to place, she finally met Hotch's questioning look. "One of your team members asked me to call him the instant you woke up. He wanted to talk to you personally."

Hotch's eyes widened as he listened to the nurses evasive talking. There was something in her tone of voice he didn't like. Something patronizing.

"Tell me."

The nurse fidgeted. "I'd rather your friend tell you himself. I'll go call him. And I'll send the doctor in; he wanted to have a look at you once you woke up."

Before Hotch could say anything further, the nurse had turned around and left the room. An uneasy feeling began to creep up inside the hardened agent's chest. What had happened to his team?

-o-o-o-

An hour later, the doctor had just left Hotch's side after doing a quick checkup on him. Learning he had been dangerously dehydrated when rescued and had slipped into a form of coma several days ago, the agent's head spun with thoughts about his team.

Why would no one tell him what had happened to them?

There was a gentle tap on the door and it creaked open as Hotch turned his head towards it. The full head of unwashed and tousled curls poking through the slight opening sent a small smile to Hotch's lips.

"Reid."

The young agent stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Sitting down next to the bed, he leaned against the mattress.

"How are you doing, Hotch?" Reid's face had small bandages on it and his arm was in a cast, but the relief in his eyes was greater than anything as he saw his superior awake from the coma.

"I've been better." Hotch raised himself on his hands to sit up against the backrest of the heightened hospital bed. "Reid. The others. How are they?"

Reid's eyes fell to the wrinkled linen under his superior as he struggled for words. There was nothing he wanted less to do than to deliver this kind of news at the moment, especially not to Hotch.

"Reid."

Biting his lip, the young agent slowly raised his eyes to meet those of his superior. Worried eyes met desperately sad ones.

"I don't know where to start."

"Morgan."

"Morgan..." Reid sighed deeply.

"Is he..."

"No. He's alive. But..."

Hotch didn't like the 'but' part at all, and suddenly it dawned on him. He didn't have to be a doctor to realize that...

"His leg."

Reid shook his head slowly. "Above the knee. There was nothing they could do. The damages were too great."

Hotch closed his eyes. "Dear God..." Rubbing his face with the palms of his hands, he returned his look to the young agent who was fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"Garcia is with him. She hasn't left him for a moment since she arrived to Alabama."

"That's Garcia." Inside, Hotch was breaking up, but a small ray of light shone through at the though of Garcia taking care of his agent. He could only imagine how Morgan felt right now. He needed to talk to him later. About more than one thing.

"And Prentiss?"

"She's alive too."

"Is there a 'but'?" Hotch already knew there was, judging on the sadness in Reid's eyes. But he needed to hear it coming from him, not from some doctor in the hallway.

"Well..."

"Tell me, Reid." The stern voice was the same as always, only a bit hoarse from the dryness in his throat.

Reid cleared his throat. "She almost bled out from the wound in her stomach. They lost her on the operating table for nearly 12 minutes. They couldn't stop the bleeding, and they had to..." He paused to take a breath and gain some composure. Running his hand through his hair, he continued. "They had to do a hysterectomy."

"What?"

"The wound was deep enough to tear her uterus nearly to shreds. They had to remove it to save her life."

Hotch looked at his young subordinate who could barely contain his tears. Controlling emotions had never been Reid's strong suit, although, in this case it was understandable. He himself could feel a stinging sensation inside, and it was pure guilt. If he had moved faster through the woods. If he had been able to stand up to the psychotic brothers in the cabin. If he had been the team leader he was supposed to be...

Maybe none of this would have happened.

"And Rawlings?"

"Just desserts."

"What?"

"The wound he got when Emily stabbed him got infected and developed gangrene. They had to amputate it."

"Amputate what?"

"You know... _It._"

"Oh." There were no emotions in Hotch's voice. Rawlings had gotten what he deserved.

Then another thought struck him.

"Dave. What about Dave, Reid?" He already knew there was no way his senior colleague was unharmed. The buck shot had torn up his face to a nearly unrecognizable state, and his eye... "He lost his eye, didn't he?"

Reid nodded. He remembered the look in Rossi's still functioning eye as he left the hospital room where he lay. It was a mix of sadness, anger and frustration that radiated from the older agent as he turned his face away from the door. Reid had left the room, but leaned against the wall outside. Rossi's face was massacred, and it would take a series of reconstructive surgeries to make it even recognizable.

"His face is severely damaged from the buck shot. He's gonna need a lot of plastic surgery to correct it. He...he doesn't want anyone to see him like that."

Hotch understood. He was glad Rossi was alive, but couldn't help but feel horrible about letting something like this happen to his old friend and colleague. A gnawing feeling inside him told him this was entirely his fault, and as he closed his eyes, the flashes of memory came back to him again – the cabin was all too vivid.

Keeping his stoic face, Hotch cleared his throat. He realized that out of all the agents who had been injured in the woods, he was the one without any physical deficiencies. The feeling of guilt and anger built up high inside him, but he managed to repress them all – at least for now.

Reid let his eyes fall once again. "Hotch..."

The superior wearily turned his look towards his young subordinate, waiting for more bad news. The tone of the other agent's voice didn't sound too cheerful.

"It's Morgan."

Hotch's heart sank. Had Morgan told him about what had happened in the cabin?

"They... They had to take his leg. The damages were too severe. They couldn't save it."

Frowning, Hotch looked at the young man who was madly fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"You told me that already."

"I did? Oh...sorry." Reid scratched his head where a bandage covered the skin. Since he got back from the horrific hike, he had been having trouble to remember things. It was like something was disturbing his short term memory. He could still recite statistics and passages from books he read years ago, but for some reason he couldn't remember what had been said in the conversation he was in at the moment.

He knew he had to talk to the doctors about this, but not right now. Right now was about Hotch and the rest of their team.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse poked her head in. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but visiting hours are over, and Mr. Hotchner needs to rest."

Reid nodded at the young nurse and turned back to his superior. "I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?"

Hotch nodded as well. "Yes."

As he rose and went to leave, the young agent stopped at the door and turned back to his boss. "Hotch?"

"Yes, Reid?"

"This isn't your fault. None of it is. I know what you're thinking, and you shouldn't. I don't know why all this happened, and I don't know how we're all gonna pull through this, but I do know one thing – and that is that this isn't your fault."

Hotch looked at his young agent, amazed over how well Reid knew him. He nodded half-heartedly as the other man left the room, closing the door behind him.

Thoughts spinning in his head at an insane rate, Hotch sat up in the bed, flinging his legs over the edge and placing his wobbly feet on the floor. It took him a few steps to get used to the shaky feeling in his legs, but as he reached the door, he had learned to parry the stagger in his walk. Locking the hospital door, he leaned his back on it.

_God._

Reaching for the adjacent wall, he steadied himself as he staggered towards the en suite bathroom. Stumbling in through the door, he slammed it shut behind him, locking it securely.

His heart was racing and he breathed heavily as he leaned against the door, bending over to place his hands on his knees. Too many thoughts crashed into his mind at once.

The cabin.

The pain.

The violation.

Morgan.

Prentiss.

Reid.

Rossi.

More pain.

More violation.

Suddenly it all became too much for the stone faced agent to handle. Jerking his head up, he came face to face with his own mirror image. The man before him was old. Tired. Scarred. Defiled. Disgusting.

With a growl of pure anger, Hotch raised his fists and slammed them straight into the mirror, sending shards every which way. Banging his fists against the broken glass until his knuckles bled, he felt tears rising to his eyes.

Angry tears.

Desperate tears.

Heartbroken tears.

Tears he could never show anyone else.

He kicked the walls, tore the shower curtain from the rod and stomped it to the floor. Throwing the soap and various bottles of cleansing creams across the small bathroom, he let out sounds that were more grunts than sobs, even though tears ran down his cheeks.

The agent was furious, both at himself and at what had happened to all his agents. He cried because the pain inside him wouldn't subside. He began to howl in pure despair, banging his fists against the tiling, making bloody blots everywhere.

Sinking to the floor, he tried to stop himself from losing whatever little he had in his stomach. The grunting sobs subsided eventually as he leaned back against the green ceramic tiling, resting his head on the toilet seat. His breath was quick and shallow as he tried to regain the small portion of dignity he still possessed, sitting on the floor of a hospital bathroom, bawling like a child.

It was the only way Hotch could break down. Alone. Where no one could see him. Only then could he let himself go. Only then could he release all the rage he had kept caged up inside him. He didn't curl up in a ball and whimper. He didn't wrap his arms around his body and rock forwards and backwards. He didn't sniffle and he didn't sob. All he did was to break down mentally, venting his anger and despair on everything in sight. It was his way.

The members of his team had all lost something very important to them, but what had he lost? He got away unharmed. Physically.

Again, the images came flashing before his eyes, making the superior wince. The laughter, the pain, the inability to move, to fight. What would this do to his mind? Knowing that he _could_ have stopped it, but something inside him shut down and forced him to stillness. He could have saved Morgan sooner, but...

Hotch gritted his teeth as he dug his fingers into his hair.

_This is__ all my fault._

**A/N 2: Okay, so I lied a little bit. There will be an epilogue, don't worry. I'll type it up as soon as I have the time. But boy oh boy was that hike ever -beep-ed up!**


	19. Of Pride and Guilt

**A/N: So it ended up being one last chapter. Had to wrap things up a bit better. It's a bit epilogue-ish and chapter-ish, so I don't know what to call it. Anyway, here it is. And ladies - there is a WARNING:**

**!! Charachter Death !!**

**You have been warned..**

-o-o-o-

"Can you just let me get it for you?"

"I can do it myself!"

"I know you can, sweetie, but… please, just let me help you."

"I don't need help!"

"Sweetie...!"

"Garcia, I'm warning you."

The blonde tech kitten fell silent and leaned against the wall, watching her knight in chocolate armor. The chip bowl perched on top of the cupboard was about six inches away from Morgan's fingers as he reached for it from his place on the floor.

Muttering, Morgan leaned on the counter and used one of his crutches to move a stool close enough for him to step on. Garcia instantly reacted.

"Morgan, no...! I can get it!"

"I can too." Placing his crutches leaned against the counter; Morgan lifted his only knee up onto the chair holding the marble tiling. It was a struggle getting back to a standing position, but he made it. As he let go of the counter and stood straight, reaching for the bowl, his center shifted – sending a jerk through his body.

Balance lost, he grabbed at the air for something to grab on to, but failed. The disabled agent fell to the floor with a crash, a thud and a groan.

Garcia was immediately at his side. "Morgan! Morgan, are you alright?" She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning in to see if he was injured.

The fallen agent pushed her away with a hard shove. "Get off!" he spat. "Get off me, goddamnit!!"

The blonde woman backed away. It wasn't the first time he had lashed out at her for trying to help, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. She understood. And she accepted it. Taking the crutches from the counter, she placed them within arm's length of Morgan and left the kitchen in silence.

Moments later she heard loud curses and several small crashes followed by a big one. Garcia sighed.

_Time for another trip to IKEA..._

Morgan had broken more than his share of cups, plates and glasses during his tantrums, but they cost practically nothing and were easy to clean up. The man needed an outlet or he would go completely ballistic.

As silence fell over the apartment, Garcia sat down in the couch, turning on the TV. A couple of seconds later, Morgan appeared in the doorway on his crutches. The look in his eyes was that of complete remorse and despair.

"Garcia, I am so sorry..." he began, but was hushed by the woman on the couch.

"Come sit down and watch the movie." She patted the cushion next to her with a smile.

Morgan hopped over to the sofa, and discarding his crutches by the armchair he plopped down next to his Florence Nightingale.

She had been there from day one. From the moment Morgan opened his eyes after the surgery, to the day he was relieved of his duties as a field agent, and every time he fell, stumbled, wobbled or lost his footing – she was there, every step of the long, hard and desperate way.

Garcia had insisted on staying with Morgan for the duration of his convalescence, but ended up practically moving in a few weeks ago. She needed to help him, but he didn't want any help.

At least two or three times per day, Morgan had his tantrums when it dawned on him that he wasn't able to do a lot of simple things quite the way he used to—things like driving, running, or even taking stairs two at the time.

He had an appointment in two months with an orthopedic aids technician to make a mold for a prosthesis, but the leg needed to be fully healed before he tried something like that. For now, all he could do was try to come to terms with the fact that he was disabled.

It would take time to learn to live with a prosthesis, and countless hours of physical therapy and rehabilitation, but at least then he'd be able to go back to a life that was somewhat more normal.

Resting his head against Garcia's shoulder, he drew a deep sigh. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I love you too." She patted his head and looked him in the eyes. "But you need to stop being a donkey all the time, and realize that sometimes you need help. We all do. You're not better than us, sweetie." She smiled sweetly, and gave his stubbly cheek a slight caress. She had been having the same talk with him a million times in the last five months. Garcia knew the words by heart.

Entwining fingers with his goddess, Morgan lifted the small hand with the quick fingers and lime green nail polish to his lips and kissed it gently. "Thank you."

Garcia smiled. "You're welcome."

-o-o-o-

"Can we rewind?"

"Again?"

"I'm sorry, I can't..."

"It's okay, Reid. We'll rewind."

Rossi took the remote from the table and pressed rewind until Reid waved his hand.

"Okay, I remember this!"

"Great."

The two agents kept watching the movie in silence, laughing every now and then, and occasionally sipping their beers.

Every time he laughed, Rossi could feel the stitches in his face tighten, and he had to stifle it. Every smile reminded him of how hideous his face looked with all the surgery he had been going through. There were numerous operations left before his face could be considered restored, and Rossi cringed at the thought of spending another moment in a recovery room.

His only consolation was that Reid had been a great support during his ordeals. Somehow, the young man had taken it upon himself to make sure that Rossi had the best possible recovery.

Reid was the only one who had seen Rossi without his bandages and sunglasses since the accident. The older man refused to show himself to anyone but the young man who he had come to know and trust. Once the extensive constructive surgeries had restored his face he could once again face the people around him. At this time, nothing inside him wanted to meet another person ever again, except for Reid.

He himself cringed at the sight of his own face right now; how would the rest of the world react? It wasn't a question Rossi was prepared to receive an answer to. His self confidence had diminished noticably, and the Italian-American tough guy was nowhere to be seen. The aged agent was however well confident that once he could feel comfortable in his own skin again, he would be able to make others feel like crawling out of theirs. But time was an issue, and reconstruction.

He had come to the realization that one of his greatest assets had been taken from him as the buck shot deformed his face. He had always been an expert marksman, but with the loss of vision on one eye he had no depth perception, and that would make it nearly impossible to hit a moving target with the same accuracy as he had before the hike. His hunting days were over.

A bond had formed between the two agents while on the hike, and not only because of the horrific assault. Rossi knew Reid's secrets, and Reid finally understood his older colleague to the extent where he had accepted him as his new mentor.

The young agent still had trouble with his memory. Every now and then, his mind simply went blank, and he couldn't even remember how he had gotten to the place where he was at the moment. Conversations were a nightmare. Reid could forget what the person next to him was talking about up to six times during a talk, and eventually the person talking to him got tired of repeating himself, and simply left.

The only one who never left was Rossi. He never had any problems with repeating what he just said, and explaining the details of the conversation. The support went both ways with the two agents. One hand held the other.

When Reid visited the hospital for a CT to find out what was disturbing his memory, doctors found a buck shot lodged inside the lower back part of his cerebrum. After a thorough discussion between experts, it was decided that the little piece of lead couldn't be removed without the risk of further damaging the brain.

There was an experimental method on the table when he talked to the doctors, but none of them were willing to try it, considering the risks. The procedure involved a laser, and the young doctor shuddered at the thought that a simple twitch of a hand and he could lose all his memories and possibly the ability to feed himself.

Choosing not to have the surgery, Reid accepted what had happened to him and worked from that.

This left Reid in a slightly Alzheimer-like state, where memories escaped him occasionally. There was nothing anyone could do.

They were both working at the BAU, but nothing could really be the same anymore.

Reid was no longer the genius.

And Rossi was no longer the wise guy.

"Uhm... Wait... Can we...?"

"Sure."

-o-o-o-

Emily sat in the same place where she had sat every night for the last five months since she got home from Alabama. The far right corner of her bedroom, leaning on her hope chest.

It had been a long time since she looked inside it before she left for the hike, but now she opened it every night, looking at the things inside. Hours could go by as she flipped through the items she had tenderly placed inside years ago.

The baby suit she made in school when she was 12.

The small socks her mother knitted for the baby once inside her, before she miscarried, years ago – before she arrived at the BAU.

The baby book, ready to be filled in.

The empty albums.

The silver chain with a small, plain charm to engrave a name on.

The diaries she wrote as a young woman.

And the list of baby names that she one day would have sat down with and selected from.

All these things were useless. Worthless.

Shit.

But Emily couldn't bear throwing them away. There were so many memories placed in that hope chest and throwing out the baby things would make the memories fade away.

Every night she sat by the chest, looking at the items, flipping through the diaries, running her fingers over the fabric of the baby suit. And every night she realized that it was never going to happen.

Certainly, there was the possibility to adopt. Emily was no stranger to the thought, but the one thing she had wanted for as long as she could remember was now an impossible dream. The miracle of giving life. To feel a child grow inside her body; feeling the kicking in her stomach, and sharing all of it with the man of who she dreamed. The pain of giving birth and the joy of holding a crying, sticky newlyborn on her chest.

Sometimes her stomach began to cramp up, and it was like it knew that something was missing, and screamed for it to come back.

But there was nothing that could bring back what she lost; what had been brutally taken from her.

And so she cried. Tired, hopeless tears in the solitude of her own home. When she arrived at the BAU in the mornings, she was stone faced. She was fine. She was better than fine, she was happy to be alive.

But when she came home, her facade fell miserably. The empty apartment seemed to mock her, taunt her into believing she would be alone and miserable forever.

She would go to bed late, crying herself to sleep every night. And she would get up in the morning and shower, put on her make up and freshly ironed clothes and go to work.

Stone faced as ever.

-o-o-o-

He pushed the broken glass away with his foot and continued through the hallway, partially staggering, partly swaying. Holding one hand on the wall and the other tightly gripping a double scotch, the man entered the living room and eased his way over to the leather armchair. Plopping down in it with a deep, hoarse sigh, he reached for the phone.

Dialing, he took another swig of the whiskey.

"_Hotchner."_

"Hey, Haley. It's Aaron."

"_Aaron? Why are you calling now?"_

"I just wanted...wanted to say goodnight to Jack." There was a slight slur in his voice as he took another sip of the brown liquid in the glass.

"_It's ten thirty; Jack's been asleep for hours... Aaron, are you drunk?"_

Hotch closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the headrest, still holding the phone to his ear. Resting the drink on his knee, he sighed.

"I still love you, Haley."

"_Aaron, I don't want you calling when you're drunk. In fact, I don't want you calling me at all. You can stop with this 'trying to get me back' bullshit; because it's not gonna work."_

"I miss you and Jack."

"_Stop it."_

"Please let me come home."

"_I'm gonna hang up now, and if you call again I'll call the police. Remember we have a court date in three weeks."_

"Don't do this, Haley..."

"_Goodbye Aaron."_

"Haley..."

Click.

Hotch sighed deeply and reluctantly disconnected the call. He had once again humiliated himself to his ex-wife during the influence of alcohol. It wasn't the first time.

The last five months had been pretty much a blur to the experienced profiler.

After returning from Alabama, Hotch hadn't been able to shake the images of the events having taken place in the cabin. They flashed through his head almost every moment of every day, and it was driving him into insanity.

The physical pain had gone away a long time ago, but...

He talked to Morgan at the hospital. Never had he felt so awful as he did when he asked the newly disabled member of his team to please never mention what had happened to them in the cabin. It was not something he wanted to reach the public ears.

Morgan had willingly agreed, as he wasn't to keen on anyone finding out about the horrific events taking place during their captivity.

He felt completely and utterly disgusting. No amount of showering could get the stench of dirty redneck off his body.

Not even in his sleep was he left alone, as the images haunted him deep in his dream, refusing to let him wake up. The same scenarios played over and over in his subconscious mind, and he woke up drenched in cold sweat, more often than not screaming in pure panic.

The psych evaluation had gone fine. Hotch often wondered what was the point of giving a profiler a psych eval. He knew what to say, how to say it and when to say it. It was his profession to read people, of course he could make people see him any way he wanted. He was quickly reinstated as unit chief of the BAU.

But lately things hadn't been going too good. Lately, too many drinks had searched their way into Hotch's hands. There were too many empty bottles under his sink, and too many Advil before work.

Tonight wasn't a good night to drink.

He didn't drink every day, but sometimes it was just too hard to get by without some sort of relief. The alcohol took away the memories, not completely, but they were blurred. Hotch enjoyed the feeling of not quite remembering; otherwise the memories were too vivid to handle without banging his head against the wall.

Not only did it take away the memories, it took away the guilt. Momentarily.

Morgan.

Emily.

Rossi.

Reid.

All of them had been injured because of him. Because he hadn't been the unit chief he was supposed to be. At least that was what his warped mind was telling him. He had failed. He couldn't take care of his team, how could he possibly be a team leader if he failed on the prime directive?

Guilt ridden and heart broken, Hotch attempted to stand up, but in the process managed to drop the glass and spilling the whiskey all over the white carpeting.

"Son of a bitch!"

Sending the glass flying over the floor with a kick, it shattered against the wall on the other side of the room.

He was so tired. So very tired.

Still wearing his suit, the superior stumbled into the kitchen to get himself another glass of...something. Anything. Anything that would take away the pain.

Stopping in front of the hallway mirror, he frowned. It was the same man who looked back at him at the hospital. The old man. The tired man. The disgusting and defiled man. The pathetic excuse for a man who couldn't even keep his team from getting hurt, or even keep his own family together.

Still holding the phone in his hand, he dizzily dialed another number and waited, holding the wall in the hallway.

"_Reid."_

"Reid, it's Hotch." He tried his best to keep his voice from slurring, but failed at that as well.

"_Hotch? Are you okay?"_

There was so much he wanted to say to the young agent, but nothing wanted to come out through his shaking lips.

"I'm fine. I just..." he trailed off as he wobbled back into the living room, sitting down in the arm chair. His feet were in a small puddle of 52 percent alcoholic fluid pooling on the carpet.

"_What's wrong?"_

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to...tell you..."

"_Hotch, have you been drinking?"_ There was a clear note of concern in the young agent's voice.

Hotch ignored the question and continued. "I wanted to tell you...that I'm proud of you."

There was brief moment of silence before Reid answered. _"Thank you, I guess... But why?"_

"What you did...in Alabama...you saved all our lives..." The slurring became even more obvious as Hotch leaned his head once again against the headrest and closed his eyes.

"_Hotch, I was the only one who could walk, I didn't really have a choice in the matter. But we've talked about this. You're calling me just to tell me you're proud of me?"_

Hotch lifted his hand towards his chest to feel his heartbeat. Maybe he could get some proof that he was still alive, even though it didn't feel like it. He rested his right hand against his chest, fingering the strap to his holster.

"You deserve it, Reid."

"_Hotch... You're kind of creeping me out. Has something happened?"_

"No...nothing's happened. Everything is just the same."

"_Do you need something?"_

"Peace and quiet..."

"_Hotch, seriously – have you been drinking?"_

"I have to go now, Spencer."

"_Okay... Are you sure there's nothing you need?"_

"Yes. Goodbye, Spencer."

"_See you tomorrow?"_

There was a short moment of silence.

"Spencer?"

"_Yeah?"_

"I'm sorry."

"_Sorry for what?"_

"I'm just sorry."

Click.

Sighing, Hotch dropped the phone down on the floor beside the chair. As his fingers finally met what they were searching for, he closed his eyes and searched his mind for the happiest moment in his life. The moment that made all other moments pale in comparison.

The birth of his son.

What kind of father was he? What kind of father could he possibly become?

He sighed once again and gained enough composure to look at the picture in the frame next to the chair. It was a picture of him and Jack, both smiling and holding a football together.

He could never have that back.

Then what was the use of it all?

-o-o-o-

Hanging up, Reid frowned.

"What is it?" Rossi inquired.

"That was Hotch", Reid half mumbled, half spoke as he stood up. "I think he was drunk."

"Hotch drunk?" The older agent's eyebrows did a jump as far as they got due to the extensive stitching.

"There was something not right about him. His voice, it was...so far away somehow. I should get over there and check up on him."

"I'm coming with you."

The two agents left the apartment, movie still playing in the VCR. They needed to see what was wrong with their superior.

-o-o-o-

Louise Hoffmann woke with a start at the sudden bang coming from upstairs. It was too loud to be something dropped on the floor, but too low to be the pipes acting up again.

Figuring the usually silent neighbor had only turned up his TV a bit too loud, she turned over in her bed and was fast back to sleep.

-o-o-o-

"Hotch?" Reid knocked on the door of his superior's apartment. He had been knocking for a good minute without an answer, and an uneasy feeling began spreading throughout his body. "Hotch, open up! It's Reid and Dave!"

No answer.

Reid shook his head. "No... Something's wrong. I have a really bad feeling about this."

Looking at his older colleague, he got a consenting nod and they both drew their weapons as a security measure. Backing away from the door, Reid quickly lifted his foot and slammed the sole against the door. It didn't give on the first try, and not on the second either. On the third kick, it began cracking, and on the fourth, the young agent managed to get the door open.

Walking into the apartment, Reid took lead and headed down the hallway towards the living room.

"Hotch?" he called into the silent apartment, still not receiving an answer.

Turning his head towards the living room, the sight that met him was horrific.

There was blood everywhere.

"Oh, God! Hotch! Jesus Christ, Hotch! Dave! **Dave**!!"

-o-o-o-

The End


End file.
